


Memories that Fade Like Photographs

by peraltiaghoe



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Cute, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, I don't feel sad about this at all and I hope you don't either, Shameless Smut, Smut, Temporary Amnesia, hello it me smut slut, i wouldn't call this angst tho it probably sounds that way, i'm really leaning into humor in my plans here, ofc smut happened
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2020-11-26 10:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 60,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20928980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peraltiaghoe/pseuds/peraltiaghoe
Summary: A fic in which Jake and Amy are in an accident and theybothget retrograde amnesia, in which Jake remembers meeting Amy and Amy doesn't remember Jake at all. They're married and living together, yet neither of them remember any of their relationship. So they're getting to know each other and trying to get their memories back and trying to make sense of an entire world that is suddenlyveryconfusing and oftentimes the complete opposite of what they would have anticipated for themselves.It might not be exactly what you're expecting. ¨̮Title from All Time Low's Memories that Fade Like Photographs.I said I’d never forget your face.Vaulted away inside my head.Your love is the barrel of a gun,So tell me, am I on the right end?I could be nothing but a memory to you,Don’t let this memory fade away.





	1. Tonight We Forget Everything

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY SO hear me out... 
> 
> I don't know why I'm writing this right now lol. I've had so much motivation for this story and almost none at all for Happier, but I have _not_ abandoned it, I swear. 
> 
> For those of you who follow me on twitter, this is the one that I was asking if it should be a one-shot a few weeks back. Turns out it is _not_ going to be a one-shot, because I already wrote 10k words and I barely even got into the plot. I can never shut up, I'm sorry (or you're welcome??? unsure). 
> 
> Okay, ignore the set up for this because!!!! I don’t know anything about amnesia and I tried to do some research but it turns out there’s actually not that much factual information due to how rare it is (how rare, you ask? I have no idea because I couldn’t find statistics). 
> 
> ANYWAYS, I always said I would NEVER do an amnesia fic because I feel like either they’re wonderful (I’m looking at YOU, Do What it Takes) or they’re really cheesy and dumb (none in specific, I just feel like the storyline can easily go there). That being said, I got this idea and I could NOT get rid of it. I needed to start writing it to get it out of my system before I could continue with Happier, and due to all the ideas floating around in my big dumb head about this, I think I’m going to stick with it, too. :) 
> 
> Also, my Spanish came straight from google translate so if that’s all sorts of messed up, we know exactly why lmao. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

The first thing that came into her awareness was the incessant beeping sound. What _was_ that? A consistent _beep, beep, beep, beep_. She took a deep breath, noting that her chest hurt as she did so, and listened a little harder. Offset from the loud beeping, she heard a quieter, more subtle beep. It was close enough to still be annoying, but she could tell it was at least across the room. 

“Victor,” she heard a voice say. It sounded… vaguely like her mother? It had to be her mother, right? Saying her father’s name. “Look at him.” A heavy sigh hung in the room. “He got the worst of it, that’s for sure.” 

Who were they talking about? Where were they- 

She took another deep breath, in through her nose. The scent that filled her senses was vaguely familiar. Images, memories made their way into her head. Sitting on top of the crinkly paper, kicking her legs as the doctor handed her a sticker. It smelled like her childhood pediatrician’s office. Like the sort of clean that had been created with off-brand bleach, sanitized and sterile without any of the added scents with silly names like _Pacific Breeze_. 

Were they in a hospital? 

Amy finally pried her eyes open, blinking away from the harsh light that filtered into her eyes. She flinched away from the burning brightness and looked in the general direction that her mother’s voice came from. Her mother was carding her fingers through someone’s hair. A man, probably about Amy’s age. His brown hair fell in messy, matted curls, but her mother was pushing it up off of his forehead, revealing a bandage underneath. He had a black eye, his left arm held against his chest in a sling. 

Who _was_ he? 

When she spoke, her voice came out much hoarser than she had expected. 

“Mom?” 

Both her mother and father jumped at the sound of her voice, turning away from the man and quickly making their way over to her. 

“¡Mija, estas despierto! ¿Como te sientes? ¿Estás bien? ¿Como esta tu cabeza? Déjame llamar al doctor.” 

Amy blinked frantically at her doting mother, now pushing her own hair out of her face the way she had done for the man across the room. She didn’t speak Spanish frequently enough, she knew, but she knew _how_. She spoke it enough that she still knew the language very well, shouldn’t have trouble comprehending, but for some reason it was like the meaning was coming at her in slow motion. 

I’m awake? How am I? My head? Why _wouldn’t_ I be okay? 

“Mom, what- what happened?” 

Her mother frowned. Behind her, her father shook his head and looked sadly at the floor. 

“Oh, mi amor. You don’t remember?” 

Amy shook her head. “Remember what?” 

Her father sighed. “They said this might happen, Camila.” 

Camila nodded at him and stared at the floor a moment before looking up at her again. She swallowed thickly. “Si, si. Amy, you were in an accident. A car accident, mija.” 

Amy blinked slowly at the news, but nodded. “Okay… Am I okay? What about the other driver?” 

Suddenly, Amy thought about the man in the room. Her mother had said that he received the worst of it. She turned her head towards him. Typically there would be a little curtain as a partition between them, but perhaps her mother had pulled it open when she was looking at him. It was strange behavior, she thought, for her mother to be touching this stranger. Did he cause the car accident? Was it her fault? God, would this increase her insurance premiums? 

“Is that the other driver?” 

When she looked back to her parents, they both looked bewildered. They were exchanging glances amongst themselves, as well as looking back and forth between Amy and the man on the other side of the room. Neither of them said anything. Her mother bit down on her bottom lip as she stared at her daughter, that familiar little worry line creasing her forehead. 

“Mama? Is that the other driver? Is he okay?” 

“I… We should get the doctor, mija.” 

“Mom? What’s… what’s wrong?” 

Her father looked at her mother for a moment before stepping forward and gingerly taking Amy’s hand in his. “Mija, that’s Jake.” 

Amy turned her head back to look at the man. Jake. _Jake._ She studied him from across the room, looking pale and, despite being asleep, tired. Jake. The problem _was_, she didn’t _know_ a Jake. 

“Oh… Okay.” She nodded as she mulled over this thought, trying to locate a person named Jake from her life. She thought back to the seventh grade, a boy named Jake in her biology class. She looked back at the man. She didn’t _think_ that was him. “Who’s Jake?” 

“Amelia, honey… Jake is your husband.” 

Amy felt her head tilt to the side, the way her cousin Fernando’s puppy always did in the pictures he posted on facebook. That’s what she was beginning to feel like--a lost, stupid puppy. And now that she thought about it, her breathing sort of felt labored and uncomfortable the way that it did when she was going into anaphylactic shock. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a quiet giggle began to form on her lips. Her father took a step back as her laugh expanded into a sort of hysterical howl. She was clutching at her ribs, which ached before the laugh continued on for such an extended period of time, and were now practically on fire. 

This was a joke. Some sort of a prank, or something. David probably somehow put them up to it. This didn’t actually happen to people. She didn’t get into a car accident and wake up with _amnesia._ That was nearly impossible. The odds of that were-

“Slim to none,” the doctor continued. “Traumatic retrograde amnesia is extremely uncommon, but it does happen. We unfortunately, as a society, don’t know all that much about memory, so it can be difficult to track these sorts of things.”

She took a deep breath. Again. 

So, this was happening. 

“So how do you like… help me get my memories back?” 

The doctor smiled reassuringly. “Well, the good news is that typically, patients with retrograde amnesia _do_ eventually recover their memories… But the bad news is that there isn’t much you can do to help that process come along faster. There has been research, but none of it has proven conclusive results. My recommendation is to learn about your day-to-day life from the people around you and do your best to replicate that life. Perhaps the more that you live it, the more likely it will be that you’ll remember it.” 

“...Okay,” Amy nodded along with this information. It was overwhelming, but it sort of felt like a case at work. She could study her own life, learn the facts, and crack the case. Hopefully pretty quickly. 

And, she thought, it would probably be easier to get this all figured out and pieced back together once Jake… her _husband_, was awake to help her remember what their lives were like. 

“And he… Jake… He’ll remember everything, right?” 

The doctor shifted his attention onto Jake. “Ah, yes, Mr. Peralta… His injuries were a bit more extensive than yours. He’s been showing signs of waking up, but he’s been pretty heavily sedated and medicated for his pain… So, again, unfortunately we don’t know, but it is highly unlikely, if not impossible, that both of you will have gotten amnesia from the same incident. So I would say that yes, he will likely remember.” 

“Peralta,” she said quietly, nodding her head once again. Her husband’s last name was Peralta. 

Jake Peralta. 

Was that short for Jacob? 

Did that really matter? 

“So he’s going to wake up soon, you think?” 

The doctor nodded. “Because he’s been showing signs of improvement and has been moving around so much more, we’ve been toggling his medications to find the right dosage that will allow him to be comfortable, but also functional. As soon as we properly manage the medications, he will likely wake up.” 

After a few more questions, the doctor left her alone to talk with her parents. 

“What’s the last thing that you remember?” Her mother’s questioning was eager. She was straight to the point, excited to hear her daughter’s answer. “Maybe I can fill in some of the blanks.” 

Amy closed her eyes for a moment, trying to locate the last real memory that she had. “Oh, I was still working at the six-four.” She nodded quickly. “I was dating Gabe.” 

Her mother made a disgusted sound, at which Amy felt herself frown. “_Gabe,_” her mother said, a little bit of acidity in her voice. “The _car salesman._” 

Amy raised an eyebrow, trying to understand where her mother’s disdain for her (apparently ex-) boyfriend came from. From what she remembered, he was a great man. 

“The two of you broke up because he couldn’t handle you being a police officer,” her father continued. “You were so ambitious and he was so discouraging about it all, so you ended it. I was very proud. But that was… what? 2008?” 

“2008? But he just said it was 2019. _Eleven_ years?” 

Her mother nodded. “Do you remember anything else?”

Amy nodded. Okay. She couldn’t remember the Gabe situation, but that sounded like her. It kind of felt like they were blowing over the fact that she had missed eleven years of her life… The last memories she had were from when she was twenty-six, and now, suddenly, she’s in her mid-thirties and has not a single memory to show for all that time? She shrugged. “I don’t know, mama. I don’t remember much right now. Why don’t you just tell me some of the things I’ve missed?” 

Her mother immediately began recounting all two billion things she had missed in the ten plus years that Amy could not recall. 

“Oh, and David got married. David’s a major up and coming officer in the NYPD. He’s won a few awards. Recently, he got a promotion. Then, oh, do you remember his girls? Yes, David has two daughters now, oh, you’ll _love them_, mija.” 

Amy rolled her eyes inwardly. Of course she was lying in a hospital bed with total memory loss and her mother was gushing about how great David was. What else had she expected? She forgot a lot of things, but she still remembered that David was her mother’s favorite. How could she possibly forget? 

After much convincing, Amy’s parents left her alone to sleep off the exhaustion that she was feeling. She had only been awake for a few hours, but it had been packed full of emotion and confusion. She was going to need to sleep for a week to feel even remotely like herself. Well, like herself ten years ago. She didn’t really know who herself today actually was. 

She wasn’t sure what time she fell asleep, but when she woke up, it was light outside again. It had just been getting dark when she started drifting off. She must have slept through the night. What woke her up, she realized, was a rustling sound coming from the other side of the room. Jake’s side of the room. 

She hadn’t immediately turned her attention toward him because she assumed it was just doctors checking in. During the hours that she was awake the day before, she found that they came back and forth approximately every two hours, unless they had something specific they needed to check or test. After looking out the window and scanning to see if there were any signs of her parents returning, she chanced a glance over at her husband. 

She was startled to find him already looking at her. He was sitting up in bed, brow furrowed in what she assumed was thought. 

“...Amy?” 

She immediately breathed a sigh of relief. Oh god, he remembered. She knew the chance that he wouldn’t was miniscule, but it was a chance all the same, and she had been so worried. She barely knew him, but she could kiss him now, just for remembering. She was feeling a little bit awkward, what with her husband’s eyes on her. This man, who remembered her, who remembered their relationship, who remembered seeing her naked… And yet she remembered nothing. It felt like an arranged marriage that she was just dropped into with minimal information. Her parents had informed her that he was a detective as well, that they had worked together for years. It was the utter lack of comfort that had her propelling the conversation forward without a second thought. 

“Oh my god, Jake. I’m so glad you remember. I was so worried that you wouldn’t and then… Then what would we do? Can I tell you--don’t be upset, but I actually don’t remember you. Have they told you that? They said it’ll be okay, that I’ll get my memories back, but it might take a while. Actually, I was hoping that you could help with that, what with-”

“Amy?” He interrupted. His eyes were wider now as he looked back at her. He looked almost apologetic, but she wasn’t understanding why. “How am I supposed to help you get your memory back?”

There she was, tilting her head in that stupid way again. “Well, I don’t know… I guess by telling me about our life.”

Now he was the one tilting his head. “_Our_ life? Amy…” He looked down uncomfortably, then around the room for a second. He looked like he was thinking pretty hard, then settled on a confused expression when his eyes returned to her face. “Ames, we like… _just_ met?” 

She stared at him for a moment, trying to understand what exactly he meant by that. She didn’t even have time to reflect on the nickname, which, for someone who ‘just met her,’ seemed weird. “When? Did we meet?” 

He shrugged his good shoulder. “I don’t know. How long have we been here? It must have been like last week or something. When you started at the nine-nine.” 

Suddenly Amy’s breaths were coming much faster, quickly shifting from holding her breath completely to bordering on hyperventilating. She began frantically pressing the button to call the doctor into their room. 

“Hey, the doctor isn’t here yet, I already tried. Some nurses came in, but they said the doctor won’t be here until-”

“Mr. Peralta! Good to see you awake! And functioning, at that-” the doctor paused as he entered the room and turned to address Amy. “Mrs. Santiago? Is everything okay? Your heart rate is much higher than usual.” 

She began shaking her head, trying her hardest to catch her breath enough to continue. “You said… You said he would remember.” 

The doctor narrowed his eyes as he turned to Jake. “You don’t? Remember?” 

Jake shrugged the good shoulder again. “The nurse told me that I was in a car accident. I don’t really know. I remember meeting Amy.”

“_Meeting_ Amy? Oh, my…” 

“Yeah…?” Jake raised an eyebrow at the doctor, then turned to flash Amy a look like _what’s this guy’s deal?_

“Mr. Peralta, do you happen to know what year it is?” 

Jake was beginning to understand that something was wrong. He was glancing between Amy and the doctor, focusing in on Amy still trying unsuccessfully to correct her breathing. “...2009?” 

“Wow. What a rarity,” the doctor began. Amy located what she swore was excitement in his voice. She pictured him running out and calling the press to tell everyone about how he had _two_ patients with retrograde amnesia.

“_Well_,” Amy interrupted the silence that hung uncomfortably between the three of them. “Are you going to tell him, or should I?” 

“Right, yes. Thank you, Mrs. Santiago. Mr. Peralta, as you now know, you were in a car accident. In this accident, you received a pretty severe head injury. We’ll have some further testing to do, but it appears to me that you are suffering from what is known as traumatic retrograde amnesia.” 

There was silence again as Jake processed the information he was just given. Amy almost couldn’t handle it. She was about to ask a question, just to break the silence, when Jake broke it for her. 

“So like… The Bourne Identity? Are there like… assassins coming after me? Am I Jason Bourne? Not as cool as being John McClane, but I’ll take it.” 

Amy scoffed. “Are you really talking about _action movies_ right now?” 

Jake laughed a little. “I don’t know, something to lighten the mood, I guess. Plus, you don’t think it would be pretty cool?” He shrugged again when she glared at him, then turned to look at the doctor. “So… It’s not 2009. What year is it? 2010?” The doctor shook his head. “Oh, oh, wait, don’t tell me. Let’s make a guessing game out of it. Is it higher, or lower?” He stopped and gestured to his head. “Oh, it can’t be lower, I forgot. Hold on, is it-”

“Jake, it’s 2019,” Amy finally snapped. 

He turned to look at her. “Did you say _2019_?” 

She nodded, leaning back in her bed in exasperation. 

“Oh my _god_,” Jake uttered quietly. 

“I’ll be right back,” the doctor announced. “I need to go get a few things and we can try to get a little bit more information from both of you.” 

Neither of them said anything as the doctor left the room. Amy stared up at the ceiling. What do you even _do_ when you forget everything that you’ve done for the past ten years? The person who she was the closest to didn’t remember her, she didn’t remember him… She worked and lived in a whole new place from where she was at before… How did you even come back from something like this? 

“Hey, uhm… I don’t mean to be rude, but like… why are you here?” 

Amy sat back up, a little too quickly, and immediately felt a little dizzy. “I was in the accident, too.” 

“Right,” he nodded. “Work accident, I assume. But like… Why are we in the same room? We don’t know each other that well, right?” 

She laughed stalely. “Right. I’m Amy Santiago,” she introduced herself with a small wave. “Which, I guess you know since you remember meeting me. I have retrograde amnesia and I don’t even remember meeting you.” He nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but Amy lifted a finger to signify that she had forgotten something. “Oh, and also--I’m your wife. Apparently.” 

Jake’s reaction loosely mirrored her own when her parents broke the news to her. He raised an eyebrow quizzically, then broke into a fit of laughter. He shifted and winced when he put too much pressure on his broken arm, which is when he began to stop laughing. When he looked at her face, no laughter present, his expression began to change. His eyes widened dramatically and his jaw dropped ever so slightly, leaving a little part in his lips. 

“Wait… You’re joking, right?” 

Amy pressed her lips together tightly and raised her left hand, showing off the ring that she was wearing. Her parents had pulled it out of her things the day before and had given it to her. She thought it might help her to remember, so she had put it on. It glinted in the light as she showed it off to him. He raised his eyebrows, the scrunched them back up again. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but then clamped his mouth back shut. The corner of his mouth tensed as he stared at her, looking her over for a lengthy amount of time before she shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably. “What?” 

“I… I’m married to _you?”_

Amy tried to tuck away the annoyance she immediately felt at his words. Was she offended? She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t like the way he had said that. He didn’t sound too excited about this marriage… But, of course, he _shouldn’t_ be. It was easier for her because she didn’t have to deal with his reaction as she took all of this information in. He had to react and process everything with his wife, whom he barely even knew, watching his every movement.

“But… You’re so _pretty_.” He was looking at her with his eyebrows pulled together, the exposed part of his forehead creasing. She had to admit, even with the bandaging across his face, the fading purple of a black eye, he still looked kind of cute. 

She laughed softly, feeling a little more lighthearted at his compliment. “That’s what’s most surprising to you about all this?” 

He shrugged, bringing his lips down into a frown with his eyebrows raised. “I mean, it’s surprising that I’m married at all… Wasn’t sure I would ever do that. But the fact that _you’re_ my wife? I mean… I’m wondering how it all happened, I guess.” 

Amy mirrored his shrugging and facial expression. “I wish I could fill in the blanks for you. From what I’ve heard, we’re two of the best detectives at the nine-nine. Maybe that brought us together?” 

He nodded, seemingly accepting this response. “So… I know this is kind of a stupid question, but do we like… kiss and stuff?” 

Amy laughed quietly. “I feel like you’re worried about the wrong parts of all this, Jake.” 

He held his hand up innocently. “Hey, I was just wondering! I mean, it sucks losing ten years of your life and all, but it might be a little better if…” He paused, watching as her expression fell. “Hey, Ames, I’m only joking. I didn’t really mean… Hey, are you okay?” 

She was leaning back in the bed now, heels of her palms resting on her forehead with her fingers lacing into her hair. Ten years. She’d lost ten years of her life. Ten years of planning, ten years of work, ten years of _love_, apparently. 

“Ten years,” she muttered quietly. 

She turned her head, resting it on her pillow as she looked at Jake. 

“Yeah,” he said solemnly. 

They were both quiet. 

\--

Their time in the hospital passed pretty quickly. Amy had been hoping for a revelation, some big reveal of her memories, but it never happened. 

Things with Jake were going pretty well, as far as things could go. They were beginning to get acquainted with one another. A lot of their time was spent trading NYPD stories that they remembered while working on their physical therapy tasks.

“Oh my _god_,” Jake had practically yelled. “I just realized that I probably forgot so many cool cases. This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

Amy laughed and shook her head. She kind of liked Jake, but he didn’t exactly seem like someone she would marry. Granted, there were ten years-worth of gaps to fill, but he seemed sort of… childish? She couldn’t exactly imagine spending all of her free time with someone who quoted Die Hard more than he thought up his own words. And yeah, he was funny, but he was also making a joke out of _everything_. That’s why she hesitated so much when he brought it up.

“So, uh… My mom mentioned that we live together. I mean, obviously…” He laughed a little, scratching at his head. “We’re married or whatevs…” He trailed off. 

“Yeah. Or whatevs.” 

He grimaced apologetically, but continued. “So, uh… are we going to just go back to living together? Because I can stay with my mom for a little while if that’s better? Until we figure things out?”

“Oh…” She had to admit, she hadn’t really thought that far ahead. “I mean… The doctor said going back to our typical lives might help us to recover our memories… So maybe we try living together and see how it goes?” 

“Oh… Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool-”

“No doubt, no doubt,” Amy interrupted, rolling her eyes in Jake’s general direction. If she had to hear him say that one more time, she might actually scream.

He scratched his head again. “Sorry. I guess I’ve been saying that a lot.” 

She shrugged. “One of the many reasons I fell in love with you, I guess.” 

He frowned, but didn’t say anything. 

The silence between them persisted. It lasted through the lengthy check out process. It lasted as they got into Jake’s car (his parents were kind enough to bring it by a few days earlier), which he found using the panic alarm because _did he even have the same car that he had ten years ago?_ It lasted through the realization that they didn’t actually _know_ where they lived. It lasted through going back inside and talking to the nurses, being reminded that he _has_ a driver’s license, at which they both laughed in quiet embarrassment. The nurse reminded them that they could _use GPS on their phones to get there._

“GPS, GPS, GPS… Hey, do you know how to work this thing?” He was tapping at the screen, but it had a passcode, which he could not remember. 

“The last phone I remember having was a _blackberry._”

“Oh, you had a blackberry?” Jake was looking at her with a smile now. “I _loved_ my blackberry.” 

She quietly took the phone from his hand, inspecting it. “This is crazy. I had a friend with an iPhone back then, but they look so _different_, now.” 

Jake nodded, accepting the phone back when she offered it. 

He was tapping erratically at the screen. “What… How do you _work this thing?_ Why would anybody _want one of these?_” 

Amy laughed quietly at him. He turned to look at her. “Hey, seriously?” 

The phone in his hand began doing something. Both Jake and Amy turned to look at the screen as it shifted to new animation. A little colorful line at the bottom of the screen moved around. At the top it read _Hey, Siri._

A woman’s voice came out of the phone. “Yes?” 

Jake blinked, looking to Amy, who shrugged. 

“Uh… Who are you?”

“I’m Siri. But enough about me. How can I help you?” 

Jake nodded at the screen, then raised an eyebrow. “Uhm… How do I get home?” 

The phone began displaying different animations again. A map appeared on the screen. “Redirecting to home. Estimated time of arrival, twenty-eight minutes.” 

Jake nodded approvingly. “Okay, okay, okay. Guess we got that figured out, thanks to… Siri?” They both waited for her to respond, but she did not. “How did she even know I was talking to her?” 

He followed the directions that the phone gave him, making his way to their apartment building. He made jokes the whole way there about how he was lucky his arm was just _sprained_ and not _broken_, because it would make it way harder to do _this_, and then he would jerk the wheel to the side, causing Amy to anxiously grip the handle inside of her door. He apologized after she was clearly upset, but she didn’t really speak to him much for the rest of the car ride. 

When they pulled up to the building, he had to check his license again for their apartment number. They made their way up the empty halls in silence. The anticipation of the moment was not lost on either of them. Maybe _this_ would be the thing that gave one of them a memory. Their home, the place where they spent, probably, a lot of their time. 

But they walked in the door, and though their senses were flooded with a million different things, memories were not one of them. Amy immediately took off her shoes and trailed into the house. In the living room, photographs of them were strewn up on the wall, all in various frames that did _not_ match.

Jake leaned against the door frame, watching Amy thoughtfully as she inspected all of the photographs. 

It was like walking into someone else’s house. Amy had always loved photographs. Many times, she found herself stealing glances at them when she was in a new place, trying to piece together the life of the person she was looking at. Photographs were interesting. They were beautiful. They told a story that words could only hope to convey so completely. 

But now she was looking at photographs of _herself_. Photos of her and Jake, her husband. Photos from their wedding, photos from work. Photos of people that she didn’t recognize. She could guess that they were their friends. She focused in on a photo of the two of them. Amy was clearly drunk, leaning in toward him with her hand on his chest. His hands were placed on his hips in response, looking at her with a sort of surprised expression.

A picture of them holding up some sort of championship belt. She leaned in to get a closer look. It read _Amy Santiago, will you marry me?_ She was showing off the ring on her left ring finger. She raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t sure what the significance of the championship belt was, but they were both beaming in the photograph. It must have been a really special memory for them. 

A picture of them in a restaurant. Jake’s mouth was open, like he was mid-laugh when it was taken. He was looking down at her, leaned against his shoulder with a similar smile on her own face. On the edge of the table, their fingers were intertwined. In the corner, the man that was seen in a few of the other pictures had his hands over his mouth, looking vaguely like he was going to cry.

She was startled when Jake spoke from directly behind her. “Those people, I assume you don’t know?” 

She turned to look at him and found him way closer than she had expected. Suddenly, she was wondering if this had been a bad idea. She was just going to live with a man that she didn’t even know because people told her that she was married to him? She glanced back at the pictures, at the two of them kissing on their wedding day. Okay, well… Clearly they _were_ married, there was no question about that. But she still didn’t know him. 

He pointed to a woman with dark hair. “That’s Rosa.” He continued pointing at random people throughout the photographs, naming them off as he did. “Charles, my best friend, Gina, Terry, Hitchcock, Scully.” 

“Who’s that?” Amy asked, pointing to the man standing before them in the wedding photo. He was present in a lot of the photographs. 

He located one of the squad all dressed in their dress blues and pointed. “I don’t remember him, but it looks like he’s our captain.”

She nodded. “I don’t remember our captain, cool.” She sucked a sharp breath in and exhaled slowly before nodding again, then she turned to face Jake. “Okay. So what do we do now?” 

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you wanna like, look around?”

“That’s a great idea! Where do you wanna start?” They both looked around. “Oh, you wanna take it to the bedroom?”

He laughed abruptly. “Ha, title of your sex tape.” He gasped. “Oh my god, title of _our_ sex tape.” 

“Ew, Peralta, calm down, I _just_ met you.” 

“What do you mean ‘ew’? And not only did you not actually _just_ meet me, but you’ve probably had sex with me.” He shrugged. He was doing a terrible job at hiding the smile that was trying its hardest to stretch across his face.

“I mean, you don’t _know_ that we’ve had sex,” she wrinkled her eyebrows as she she said it. She didn’t know why she was arguing this point. They’d been together for _years_, according to their families. Obviously they’d had sex. 

“Ames, we’re _married_. It’s not like I’m some guy you just found on the street.” 

She shrugged her shoulders and ignored him, walking down the hallway where she assumed their bedroom was. They walked down the hall together, opening a few wrong doors (the bathroom, a closet, and a spare bedroom) before they located the correct room. Once they were in, they both started sifting through different things. Amy chose their bedside table, sorting through some papers that were in a drawer. Some bills, statements, receipts for tax-return purposes.

Jake, on the other hand, faced the television that was across from their bed. On top of the dresser was a stack of DVDs. Die Hard, of course, a few other action movies. A romantic comedy, a few more cop movies. Next to that was a blank box. He picked it up and inspected it. He opened it up and looked at the disk, which simply had a small ‘x’ written on it. 

He chuckled quietly and turned to Amy. “Twenty bucks says this is it.” He shook the DVD box at her. 

She made a face. “This is _what_?”

He laughed. “Proof that we’ve had sex. Our sex tape.” 

She grimaced at him, but stood up and walked over to inspect the box. She shrugged and popped the disk out of the box. “Okay, I’ll take that bet.” 

He settled into the pillows on the bed as she slid the disk into the DVD player. She turned to look at him, then made a quiet noise of disgust. “Take your shoes off.” He rolled his eyes, but toed his shoes off and kicked them to the floor.

She fidgeted with the buttons on the remote for a moment, working to get the television into the correct setting to display the movie. When it finally came to life, she was worried for a split second that her twenty dollars were in jeopardy. The camera was shaky, pointed down. Someone could be heard breathing heavily. Suddenly, the camera shifted up. 

On a New York street, lights were strung all around them. She recognized the area as being near the ninety-ninth precinct. She didn’t remember working there directly, but she knew where it was, of course. She stood in front of him, holding his hands in her own. 

It was their wedding video. She stepped backward, leaning onto the edge of the bed without looking away from the screen. 

The camera turned around to show the man Jake had previously pointed out as Charles, smiling. “I can’t believe this is finally happening,” he gushed quietly, then turned the camera back to them. 

“Friends, colleagues, gawking New Yorkers. We are here today to celebrate the marriage of Jake Peralta and Amy Santiago.” Their captain, who she still didn’t know by name, was speaking in front of them. 

“I have known you both for the last five years and it has been a true pleasure to watch your distracting, childish rivalry evolve into a distracting, childish courtship, and what I’m sure now will be a distracting, childish marriage.” They all shrugged, nodded, and smiled. “I’m proud of you, and I love you both.”

Amy watched quietly, smiling lightly at the scene rolling out in front of her. It was like two strangers, but she knew that she was one of them. Distracting and childish weren’t exactly words she ever thought she would hear in reference to her marriage, and the description was enough to make her furrow her brow in thought. 

“Permission to say it back?” Jake asked softly. 

“Permission granted.” 

Movie Amy turned to face him as she spoke. “I love you, too, sir.” 

“I love you, Captain.” Jake’s wide smile could be seen even from the odd angle of the filming. 

“Now, I believe you’ve prepared your own vows?” 

“Yes, I was going to do an Addam’s family themed rap, but my beat-boxer isn’t here. That’s the _only_ reason it’s not happening.” 

Amy laughed and turned to look at Jake behind her. He was looking enamored at the screen, completely disregarding her in front of him. 

“So, Ames.” She sighed softly at the nickname that she’d heard so many times in the weeks that they’d been in the hospital together. Hearing it from _before_, from a memory she didn’t have, made her feel weird. He used to call her that. She wondered what else they did just like before without even knowing. 

“Today has been a crazy day, but I shouldn’t be surprised, because we’ve had a lot of crazy days. There was our first date, our first kiss, the first time you told me you loved me, and the day you told me you would marry me. Also yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that, because every single day that I get to be with someone as amazing as you is crazy to me. I love you and I’m worried about dancing in front of our friends.” Her laugh at that moment mirrored her laugh in the video, and she heard Jake laugh softly behind her. “The end.”

“Okay, well I’ve been planning this wedding for the last six months and if you told me yesterday everything that was gonna go wrong, I would’ve had a panic attack that sent me to the ER, but I’m here and I’ve never been happier.” She wondered what had gone wrong at the wedding that could have sent her to the hospital. She imagined that, if she was anything in the future like she was ten years before, it wouldn’t have taken much. 

“Life is unpredictable. Not everything is in our control, but as long as you’re with the right people, you can handle anything. And you, Jake Peralta, are the right person for me. But I do have some bad news. There is a bomb at this wedding as well. Your butt. Your butt is the bomb, there will be no survivors.” 

She rolled her eyes at herself, not understanding the significance of this statement. Movie Jake was visibly trying to control his emotions. He took a deep breath, eyes glistening. 

“I love you so much. You’re my dream girl.” 

“I love you, too. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The video had been edited, it appeared. When it picked back up, everyone was cheering, but the screen was black. Charles lifted the phone back up from what appeared to be the ground, then turned it around to face him. “I’m so sorry, guys. I was so excited that I dropped the phone, I think I missed the kiss on the video.” 

The video cut to show more footage from later in the day. 

“Oh my god, a Nakatomi plaza cake?” Jake asked excitedly, moving to crawl down the bed so he was next to her. “That is _so_ cool.” 

Jake’s hands were placed over hers as they guided the knife down the tall cake. He scooped some cake onto his fingertips and mimed smashing it in her face, but didn’t follow through. When she relaxed, he did swipe one finger quickly onto her cheek. She gasped and wrinkled her eyebrows up at him, but she was smiling. She grimaced as he leaned in and licked the frosting away, raising his eyebrows suggestively and receiving cheers from the audience.

She smiled and turned to face him. He was smiling at the screen, but she could see where his eyes were glistening just like they had been in the video. 

“Were you crying?” 

“What? No, why would you-” He looked at her for a moment, eyes searching, and paused. “It’s _emotional_, Amy.” 

She smiled softly at him. The music changed in the movie, so they both flicked their heads back toward the screen. 

It was strange, watching videos of yourself that you didn’t remember happening. It really was like watching a movie. The characters were foreign, but familiar. You’ve seen storylines like this before, but you’ve never quite seen this exact one. They leaned into each other as they moved through the motions of their first dance. It wasn’t effortless, by any means, but Amy could hardly believe that it was her dancing on the screen. She had never seen herself moving so fluidly. 

She shook her head at him, then they both laughed at whatever she had said. She stretched up closer to him and he met her for a kiss that wasn’t quite chaste, by the looks of it. His hand trailed up the middle of her back, leaving its place on her waist where he had been guiding her. People around them started cheering as they noticed them, slowing from their dance until they were barely swaying at all, her arms wrapped loosely around his neck. 

As the cheering got louder, she broke away from him. Without his hands on her waist, she immediately stumbled. He caught her and steadied her, smiling and looking down at her like he was holding the most precious thing in the world between his arms. 

They both turned and smiled toward the camera. She leaned against his chest as she did. Charles flipped the camera so it was front-facing. “Perfect, just perfect,” he shouted. 

The video faded to black quite abruptly, leaving them in silence. 

He chuckled quietly beside her. “That was kinda weird, right?” 

She laughed, relief washing over her. “God, _yes_! I’m so glad you thought so, too.” 

The laughter faded, and even though she turned her head, she could still feel his eyes on her. She flopped back against the bed and stared at the ceiling. Tentatively, Jake laid beside her, staring at the ceiling as well. 

“How are we gonna do this?” Amy finally asked. 

He shrugged. “The way I see it, we can do one of two things. We can either just fake it ‘til we make, ya’know, pretend everything’s normal when it’s obviously not… Or we can just try to get to know each other. Like… dating, I guess?” 

Amy laughed quietly. “I wonder if this is what an arranged marriage feels like.” She shook her head. “Dating my husband. I have a _husband_.” 

He laughed and turned on his side so he was facing her, sort of towering over her. “Am I everything you hoped I’d be?” 

She raised her eyebrows. “I mean, did you watch that video? We looked pretty in love.” 

He seemed to freeze at that word. _Love_. Did they love each other? 

“You’re right, we did. God, I wish I could remember. I can’t imagine feeling that way.” 

She felt her forehead crease without her approval. A reflex, she supposed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

He shook his head and pushed to sit up. He crossed his legs in front of himself like a child. “No, no, not like that. Like, nothing to do with you. If I was going to feel that way about anyone, I’m not surprised that it’s you. Based on what I know and everything.” 

“What do you know about me?” 

He cocked his head to the side and looked at her, perplexed. “Well… You’re pretty, you’re smart. You’re a great detective, so I’ve heard. Rosa’s been texting me, trying to fill me in on some of the details. They’re keeping Charles away so he doesn’t overwhelm us. You like Die Hard-”

“I don’t like Die Hard.” 

He jutted his head forward and stared at her, then quickly pushed himself off of the bed altogether. He took a few steps back. “I’m sorry, you don’t like Die Hard?” 

She shrugged. “No. It’s not even in the top five best cop movies.” 

He clasped his hands together, pointing his index fingers at her. “We had a Nakatomi Plaza wedding cake, Amy. And you’re telling me you don’t like Die Hard?” 

“I don’t know, I figured I must have done it to make you happy, or something.” 

He wrinkled his face up like he was in thought, then turned away. 

He didn’t say it to her, but someone who would just do things to make him happy even though they didn’t like those things didn’t sound like someone he would fall in love with. And someone who _didn’t like Die Hard?_ Even more unbelievable.

“We should figure something out for dinner,” he said quietly. 

When he looked at her, she just nodded in agreement. 

She walked into the kitchen and opened up a drawer, pulling out a variety of menus. He watched carefully. “How did you know where those were?” 

She paused and looked down at the menus in her hands, then back at the drawer. “...I don’t know, actually. I just walked over here and opened it up. Like it was in my head, but I didn’t know it.” 

“Oh my god, Ames. This is great! Can you remember anything else?” 

He was leaning closer to her, excitedly awaiting her response. She looked toward the ceiling as she thought, then frowned. “No, nothing.” 

He frowned along with her, then hopped up onto the counter, sitting on the edge of the island. She glared at him. “Jake, get off the counter.” 

He scoffed. “Why do you have so many rules?” 

She scrunched her face up. “What rules?”

He mimicked her. “Jake, take off your shoes. Jake, get off the counter.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, that’s _two_ rules. You can’t take your shoes into bed because that’s _gross_. And you could break the counter sitting up there.” 

He made a sound in the back of his throat like he was offended. “Wow, Amy. Way to be body-positive.” 

“Oh my god, shut up. You know that’s not what I meant.” 

He pulled one of the menus out of her hands, but didn’t get off the counter. She rolled her eyes and walked her other menus to the dining room, where she sat at the table. After a few minutes, he traipsed after her, sitting in the chair next to her and huffing. 

“What do you want to eat?”

She rolled her eyes and chose not to look up from the menu. She flipped through the menus silently. He sighed loudly, leaning his head on the table. 

“Pizza? Calzones? Pizza bagels? Pizza pockets?”

When he sat back up to figure out why she _still_ hadn’t responded to him, she was looking at him in disbelief. “Did you just name four different things with the exact same ingredients?” 

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Do you honestly think I know all the ingredients in all of those things?” 

Amy raised her hands up and opened her mouth to say something, but then closed her mouth. She clasped her fists shut and lowered them into her lap, taking a deep breath, then looked back at the menus. 

“I think I just want a salad,” she finally said. She tossed him a menu she had looked at. “Pick something from this place.” 

He made a sort of gagging sound. “You want a _salad_?”

“You don’t like salad?” 

“I don’t think I’ve eaten a vegetable in the past five years.” 

“You don’t _remember_ the past five years.” 

He frowned, but then laughed. “Fair enough.” 

\--

That night, they sat on either side of their bed. Jake cleared his throat quietly. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to sleep in the living room? I can sleep there, ya’know, if this makes you uncomfortable.” 

She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. How many times have we done this?” 

He swallowed thickly. “I don’t know.” 

She adjusted so she could crawl under the blanket. He looked at her, tension clear in his eyebrows. He almost flinched when her hand reappeared from under the blanket and fell softly against his forearm. 

“You don’t have to sleep here, though. You know, if it makes you uncomfortable. It won’t hurt my feelings if you’re not ready.” 

He swallowed again, then scoffed. “Uncomfortable? Why would I be uncomfortable?” 

He moved and got underneath the blankets with her, feeling every bit as uncomfortable as he was claiming not to. He wasn’t used to just climbing into bed with beautiful women that he barely knew after spending most of the day arguing with them. Any time that he _had_ done something like that, he definitely wasn’t used to doing it fully clothed and almost a foot apart. More than anything, he wasn’t used to the matching bands on the fourth finger on both of their left hands. 

She smiled at him, then rolled over and flicked off the lamp. He practically held his breath as she settled against the pillow next to him, still so far away, but so close that he could feel her breathing. 

“Goodnight,” she said softly. 

“Goodnight,” he replied. 

And yeah, he didn’t remember anything. And yeah, he barely knew her. And _yes_, he was a little bit uncomfortable in that moment. But all that aside, he didn’t mind falling asleep like this, in bed next to her. As he closed his eyes, the smell of her shampoo had him wanting to move in closer to her. 

\--

It was so dark. That was the first thing he noticed. 

There were trees on either side of the road. This didn’t look like Brooklyn, didn’t look like any city that he typically drove through in New York. Was he even in New York? He turned his head, trying to survey the road to his right, but his view was obstructed by her. _Amy._ She was turned slightly toward the door, away from him. She looked tense. It didn’t take a great detective to be able to tell that she was upset about something. 

He pursed his lips and looked back toward the road. 

Why was it so fucking dark? 

There was a light fog making the already difficult to see road hazier than before. The windshield wipers flicked back and forth rhythmically, blurring his vision even more as the fast-falling droplets were smudged across the glass. 

He hadn’t noticed a song before, but the lyrics were coming into his awareness now. He didn’t _know_ the song, but he could hear it so clearly. His hands fell away from the steering wheel a little until he was barely gripping the bottom of the wheel. 

“Jake,” she said softly. 

He shook his head, then turned to look at her. 

“Do you need to switch? Are you falling asleep?” 

“No, no, I’m good,” he replied immediately. “Just the song.” 

_I call you one time, two time, three time, I can’t wait no more._  
_Your fingers through my hair, that’s on my mind._  
_I know it’s been a minute since you walked right through that door, but I still think about you all the time._  
_I don’t know, I don’t know how I’m gonna make it out._  
_I don’t know, I don’t know how you got me sayin’ fuck, I’m lonely, I’m lonely, I’m lonely as fuck, come hold me, come hold me, come hold me._

Even through the dark, he could see the lights in the distance. Coming from the left side, down a cross-street a little ways ahead. He was going so fast, and god _why_ was he going so fast? He tried to pull his foot off the gas, but it wouldn’t move. His jaw tensed and he began to brace himself. He thought about her but then-

Peppermint kisses. That’s what she tasted like, kisses pressed against the corner of his mouth. He turned to look at her more fully, confusion pulling his eyebrows together, creasing his forehead. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” she whispered against his skin. He let his hands fall away from the steering wheel completely. She ran her fingers along the length of his jaw as she pulled him into another kiss. 

He could feel her, and he could taste her, and he was melting into her. The sounds of the rain tapping onto the windshield, the wipers swishing back and forth suddenly felt so far away. He couldn’t hear a song anymore. He could feel her breath falling shallowly against his lips, could taste her tongue as it met his. There was nothing but her, nothing but comfort, nothing but-

He turned his head just in time to see the headlights shining through his window-

\--

He gasped awake, reaching for the sheets, a blanket, anything to ground him and bring him back to reality. What he found was much more grounding. 

It took him a few seconds to register the movement against his chest, but then that smell of her shampoo brought him right back to the moment before he fell asleep. 

Maybe normally he would find this weird, this almost, sort of total stranger curled into his chest, breath ghosting across his collarbone as she exhaled slowly and rhythmically. But in this moment, when he was trying to regulate his own breathing, focusing on hers was helping him more than he could have asked for. She was warm and close and he felt just as comforted as he had in his dream-

His weird ass dream that he would _definitely_ have to unpack at some point… 

He turned as much as he could without disturbing her and glanced at the alarm clock. 3am. 

He wrapped his arms around her in a way that he would almost call reflexive. She was nestled into him so warm, and he just pulled her in closer. He took a few more deep inhales of that scent that he was already growing so used to before he was drifting back off to sleep, hopefully far away from whatever trick his subconscious was trying to play on him.


	2. Ex-Friends Til the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Best friends,_   
_Ex-friends til the end,_   
_Better off as lovers_   
_And not the other way around._
> 
> Title from Fall Out Boy's Bang the Doldrums.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wrote almost this entire chapter out in one sitting and am ofc not going to edit, I think you all know me better than that by now. 
> 
> A set up to a set up to a set up. ¨̮ Love that for us.

She opened her eyes almost unwillingly. She hadn’t set an alarm the night before because she wasn’t going to be going to work the next day, didn’t have any idea what she typically did with her days, and she figured it would be fine if she slept in just this once. 

By the amount of light that was filtering into the room through the curtains, she’d be willing to bet that she didn’t exactly “sleep in.” The curtains didn’t look immediately familiar to her, then she had to dig through her recent memories to recall that she didn’t have many recent memories, after all. Unfortunately another night went by in which she did not spontaneously remember everything. 

She moved to stretch, but found that she was almost unable to move at all. Jake had both of his arms around her, boxing her in with his arms like she was in some sort of jail cell. A warm, inviting jail cell that she didn’t mind being stuck in, for the time being. His body was pressed against her back, their legs tangled together as they snuggled into the blankets. Somehow this felt less weird than every other situation she’d been in with him so far. 

She dozed back off for a while, sleeping lightly until Jake began stirring around her. His breath had been falling rhythmically against her neck, and while it tickled at first, she quickly got used to it. What she hadn’t been expecting was the soft, sleepy groan that fell against her ear as he flexed his arms around her. She craned her neck toward the sound and shivered against him as goosebumps spread across the back of her neck. 

His arm that was over top of her, pulling her against him, moved so that his fingers were skirting across her abdomen, slipping underneath the hem of her shirt and lazily tracing the warm skin he found there. A soft sound of satisfaction left her lips as his fingernails traced over her hip, his palm smoothing over repeatedly. As soon as he heard the sound, his movements slowed. 

Slowly, he pulled his arms away from her entirely. He cleared his throat quietly. “Uh, good morning… Sorry.” 

She rolled over to face him. “Why are you sorry?” 

“I don’t know… I was kind of like, groping you I think?” 

She laughed softly. “I wouldn’t have called it groping. It was nice.” 

His face felt warm and he hoped he wasn’t blushing, especially not with her studying his face so closely. 

“You wanna grab some breakfast?” She finally asked.

He smirked at her. “I don’t know, do you eat breakfast salad, too? Because I don’t know if I could take that.”

She thought it over for a moment. “Would you call fruit salad breakfast salad?”

He stared blankly at her. “Are we the most incompatible couple on the planet?” 

\--

He made a face when she actually ordered fruit salad and toast from the diner across the street. She rolled her eyes at his extra bacon, but aside from that, they got along pretty well. While they waited for their food, they shared stories, memories from before. They got to know each other. 

Amy covered her mouth as she laughed at his story. “Your mom must have had her hands full then, huh?” 

“Yeah, well that’s not even including the time I found a stray dog and brought it home while she was at work.” He nodded at her when her jaw dropped. “If it was even a dog at all. It might have been a wild raccoon or something. Either way, it was sleeping in bed with me when she got home.” 

She leaned closer, still laughing. “You just brought him inside?” 

“Well, yeah. She wouldn’t _let me_ have a dog… I thought maybe I could hide him in my bedroom and feed him bologna sandwiches or something. She found him that night. Turned out the dog actually lived three houses down. He was very happy to have all those bologna sandwiches, though.” 

She smiled. “That’s cute. I’m allergic to dogs.” 

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Allergic? Like they make you sneeze or whatever?” 

Amy pursed her lips. “If ‘or whatever’ means they make me go into anaphylactic shock so bad that I need an epi-pen, then yeah.” 

He made a face. “Huh. I always liked dogs.” 

They picked quietly at their food for a few minutes. 

“So… How does everything look so far? Around Brooklyn, I mean. The same as you remember?” 

He shrugged and glanced out the window. “That building,” he pointed toward the corner of the window at a little ice cream parlor across the street, “used to be a Blockbuster.” 

“Hmm, I wonder why they moved it?” Amy asked, staring at the storefront out the window. 

“Actually, that’s a great question,” Jake agreed. “I used to go there all the time. I rented Die Hard so much that they had to buy a new copy.” He pulled out his phone, which he had _almost_ mastered the basics of operating. Amy had quickly figured out that her phone opened when she touched her thumb to it, deducing that it had a fingerprint reader. Jake’s did as well, so he could finally get in and out of the phone. They still weren’t sure how to talk to Siri, though. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Calling Rosa,” Jake put the phone up to his ear. “To ask about Blockbuster.” 

Amy raised her eyebrows, but stayed quiet. This didn’t seem exactly like the right time to be dropping everything to ask someone a question about Blockbuster, but what should she have expected? She was sure that Rosa, though she didn’t know her, had better things to do than reassure Jake about his favorite movie store. Did people even use DVDs anymore? 

“Rosa. Hey, what happened to the Blockbuster on Flatbush?” 

Amy watched silently as his jaw dropped. “No. What do you-” he paused, trailing off. “Yeah, I know you’re busy but I’m trying to remember my _life_, Rosa. Any detail could be the one that brings it all back!” He paused again, listening intently before making a face like he was particularly offended. “What do you _mean_ nobody uses DVDs anymore? What the hell is a Hulu?” 

He sighed as he hung up. Amy gave him a moment before she finally asked, “What did she say?” 

He sighed again. “She said she doesn’t have time for this. Blockbuster went out of business in like 2010 because,” he paused and changed his voice to a more mocking tone, “nobody watches DVDs anymore, it’s all about Netflix and Hulu.”

Amy squinted at Jake. “Doesn’t Netflix… _sell_ DVDs?”

“That’s what I thought!” 

\--

After _much_ deliberation from Amy, they decided that they would make an appearance at the precinct the next day. 

“I don’t see why we can’t just go today,” Jake complained. 

“Because, Jake. We still haven’t finished going through the house. If we’re going to figure out our lives, we should take everything one step at a time, be methodical, you know?” 

He groaned. “Fine, but if we’re doing your thing, we get to do one of my things, too.” 

“Why is trying to recover our memories _my_ thing?” He just shrugged, so she continued. “What’s your thing?” 

“Well,” he began. He stopped and turned to run out of the room, into their bedroom. He reappeared a moment later with a DVD in his hands. “We watch Die Hard.” 

Amy scoffed. “Great idea, Jake. Waste the time we could be using to get back to normal to watch a stupid action movie.” 

He gasped in offense. “_Stupid action movie?_ Okay, first of all Die Hard will probably bring my memories back _immediately._ Second, I want a divorce.” 

She rolled her eyes at him. “You can go ahead and watch Die Hard. I’m gonna go through the spare bedroom today and see what I can find.” 

He grumbled something, but he was already popping the box open and heading toward the living room. 

She made her way into the spare bedroom. The first thing that caught her attention in there was the desk in the corner of the room. There were stacks of paper spread out around it. Upon further inspection, they were bank statements and receipts of different sorts. There was a checkbook in the corner. She opened it up and found that this was specifically _her_ checkbook, but she didn’t see one for Jake. 

She figured she’d give him some time to watch his movie before she bothered him with that, so she turned for the closet. There were a few boxes in the corner that she was definitely going to go through, but there was something else that she couldn’t pull her attention away from. A long, pink dress bag, tied at the bottom. She had a suspicion about what was inside, but she couldn’t resist untying it and checking. 

She rolled the bag up on her wedding dress, the dress from the movie, and gasped softly as she let her fingers run along the fabric. She never made the explicit decision to put it on, but before she knew it, she was contorting her arms to zip the dress up on her back and looking in the mirror across the room, smoothing the dress with her hands. She adjusted her hair on either side of her shoulders, then looked back in the mirror, smiling. 

Even in the dress, she didn’t feel more like the girl in the movie. She looked _exactly like her_, but she didn’t feel exactly like her. 

She was still contemplating on all of this, twisting in different directions to try to imitate her movements from the video, when the door clicked open. 

“Hey, I was-” Jake began as he walked into the room, but he immediately stopped as he took in the image in front of him. Amy, startled and clearly embarrassed, snapped toward him, hands grasping at the fabric around her collarbone in a feeble attempt to cover the dress. 

Her face was burning, and as stupid as she felt when she first pulled up the zipper, she felt it tenfold now. He opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated, the beginning of his words getting lost in his gentle laughter. Then, the thing that set it all over the edge even _more_: the laugh trailed off and as he closed his stupid mouth, which immediately settled _not_ into a smile, but a stupid, smug little smirk. 

His tongue darted out across his bottom lip as he smiled, letting another small laugh slip out before he spoke. “What are you doing?” 

Amy, still hunched forward and gripping the dress, looked down at it, then quickly back at him. “I, uh…” She shook her head, then stumbled over a few more nonsensical words. 

He took a step forward. “Hey, you look, uhm… Really pretty. Like a… Like a mermaid.” 

The slight burning on Amy’s cheeks blossomed into a wildfire. She couldn’t tell if he was just really bad at compliments or if he was trying to be a dick, but either way mermaid was not how she would have chosen to be described. She shrugged her shoulders and turned so that she wasn’t facing him, which just meant that she was facing the mirror where they still both had a perfect view of the other’s face. 

“I just saw it in the closet. I…” She shrugged. “I don’t know, I thought maybe it would help me remember. It was stupid.” 

She watched his reflection as he stepped closer to her. “Hey, that’s not stupid.” 

Her eyes focusing back in on the dress. She looked back at his reflection for a moment, but she was feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze and quickly reverted back to looking at the hem of the dress. She jumped when she felt something touch the back of her arm, then saw him recoiling and taking a step back behind her. 

“Sorry, I, uh-” he stammered. “I don’t know-”

“Did you need something?” She interrupted, trying her hardest to avoid his gaze. 

“I…” He looked back down at the dress, then back at her face. “Sorry, this is a little distracting. I was gonna come help. I thought it would be more fun to watch my favorite movie with my wife,” he leaned down and gently elbowed her arm, an attempt to lighten the mood. 

If anything, it had the opposite effect on Amy. “Actually, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather just do this by myself for a little while.” 

“Oh,” Jake replied quickly. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining the disappointment in his voice. “Cool, right, no problem. I’ll just, uh… head back out there, then, I guess…” He trailed off, waiting for her to say something. 

“Wait,” she cut in as he finally turned around. He turned back to face her, a small smile in place on his lips. “I found some bank statements and it looks like we share a bank account. I was going to log in and figure out where we are with our financials. Do you know where your checkbook is?”

Jake cocked an eyebrow. “My _checkbook?_” 

Amy mirrored his expression. “Yes? Your checkbook?” 

He laughed. “Amy, I know we both forgot the last ten years, but it’s not 1995. People don’t use checkbooks.” 

Amy scoffed. “Uh, correction. People _do_ use checkbooks-”

“Yeah, _nerds_ use checkbooks.”

“_Nerds?_” She scoffed again, more aggressively. “Responsible adults who care about their financial situation use checkbooks to track their purchases and manage their budgets.”

Jake shook his head. “You lost me at ‘financial situation.’”

Amy rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay, well can you look around and see if you can find a checkbook somewhere?” 

He shook his head. “I don’t know what happened in the future or anything, but I can _promise you_ that I didn’t use a checkbook. There won’t be one to find.”

She groaned. “Then _how_ am I supposed to-”

“Here,” Jake offered, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and extending it toward her. 

“How is this going to help?” She made a face and flipped open the leather. On the inside was a picture of them from a photobooth, both laughing. She ignored her urge to smile and looked at him expectantly. 

“I don’t know, look through it. There might be somethi-”

“Is this a Blockbuster card?” 

Jake tilted his head and walked around to her other side so he could see what she was looking at. He laughed. “Oh, yeah, I guess it is.” 

“_Why_ do you have a Blockbuster card in your wallet?” 

“Because I like Blockbuster?” 

“Rosa said Blockbuster closed like nine years ago.” 

“Yeah, and I _just_ found out that it closed,” Jake scoffed and looked at her as if that had been obvious.

“_No,_” Amy corrected. “You found out nine years ago, when it _happened_. You lost your memory a few weeks ago, which means that you’ve been carrying around a useless Blockbuster card with you at all times for nine _years_.” She paused for Jake to explain himself, but he just blinked at her. “Do you realize how ridiculous that is?” 

“I don’t see the problem,” Jake said slowly. 

“Okay, let me phrase this in a way that might make sense to you. That’s like if I had an expired pizza pocket, but I just kept it in my freezer for nine years, even though it was expired.” 

Jake scrunched his eyebrows up and back away from her. “Pizza pockets don’t expire!” 

“_How_ have you survived this long?” He opened his mouth to speak, but she held her hands up and interrupted him. “Don’t answer that. I can’t deal with this right now.” 

“You can’t deal with me right now?” 

“That’s not what I said-”

“It’s what you meant.” 

She didn’t say anything. He scoffed quietly. “Right, no problem. I’ll just _go_.” She watched quietly as he walked out of the room, shutting the door a little forcefully without quite slamming it. She made her way over to the door and touched the handle, but then thought better of following him and just leaned her back against the door. 

She took a deep breath and hoped that he didn’t hear the soft thud of her head hitting the door as she leaned back dejectedly. This was easily the most difficult situation she had ever been catapulted into. She was living with a man that she barely knew, that she wouldn’t exactly say she got along with, though she didn’t feel it was fair to say she didn’t like him, considering the barely knowing him thing. 

She felt confused and guilty because he was her _husband._ She was _supposed_ to love him. This was supposed to be _easy._ They fell in love once, she thought it would just be like clockwork, like they would fall into a quick and easy rhythm, like love at first sight or something. 

Looking at pictures didn’t help. Watching a video of them together didn’t help. Talking to him didn’t help. If anything, talking to him made everything _worse_, because they couldn’t manage to be around each other without arguing every fifteen minutes. 

She let herself move down to the floor until she was almost sitting, then she realized she was still wearing the wedding dress. Even in this situation, she had the foresight to know that she would be devastated in the future if she got her wedding dress dirty because she was too busy mourning the loss of her memories to take off the stupid thing. 

She pushed herself back up off of the floor and moved over to the mirror. She twisted so that she could see the mirror and stretched her arms back behind her to tug it back down. After quite a bit of stretching, she finally grasped the tiny zipper between her thumb and forefinger, but when she tugged, nothing happened. 

She took a deep breath and twisted in a different way to try to get a better grip. 

Nothing. 

She let go completely and bent her arm behind her back, holding her breath and contorting in a way that was _incredibly_ uncomfortable, to no avail. 

She turned back to face the mirror, her breathing quickly becoming labored. She recognized the impending panic attack and zeroed in on the reflection of a vase sitting on the dresser behind her. She counted in her head as she took deep, steady breaths. 

Some people described panic attacks as feeling like they’re drowning. To Amy, it always felt like breathing with a plastic bag over her head. This was a feeling, unfortunately, that she could actually say she recognized (_thank you_ twelve-year-old David for convincing Eli to help hold her down so they could put a bag on her head when she was eight) (_bigger_ thank you to Tony for catching them after she’d used her first breath to shriek and beating them up, even though he got in trouble for the black eye that he gave David, who didn’t get in trouble because _”I was just trying to scare her!”_ and _”He already has a black eye, isn’t that punishment enough?”_)

After a few minutes, she had calmed herself down. She let her gaze fall back upon her eyes. How important _was_ this wedding dress? Would future Amy be _that_ upset if it was ruined? Surely not more upset than current Amy would be if she had to call Jake back into the room to unzip her dress, right? 

It wasn’t _possible_ to be more upset than current Amy at the prospect of doing just that. She flopped over on the guest bed and began desperately trying to reach for the zipper again because she would burn the dress off of her body before she called Jake in to _help her_ after she’d basically just told him he was too annoying to be around (which, by the way, she stood by, but she wasn’t a _monster_.) Also, maybe more importantly, she wasn’t going to come crawling to him for help because she still had at least an ounce of pride, even if she was miserably stuck in a wedding dress that she shouldn’t have even put on in the first place. 

She stood back up and looked in the mirror, gathering the bottom of the dress in both hands. Okay, she was doing this. She was going to tear the dress off of her body. That was the only solution. She took another shaky breath as she stared at herself. _How_ did she get here? 

She was not actually about to tear her wedding dress off. That wasn’t going to happen. This was ridiculous. She was going to march out of the room like she had some semblance of dignity and she was going to ask her husband to help her take off her wedding dress. 

She took a deep breath and marched toward the door, twisting the handle and walking out of the room before she could stop herself. Jake was sitting on the couch with his arms crossed, not even watching the movie. He looked like he was pouting, right up until he saw her. He attempted to stifle his laughter, but he failed. 

“Here comes the bride,” he sang softly. 

“Shut up,” she shot back. “Come unzip me.” 

He laughed loudly. “I’m sorry, are you asking me to help you?”

She raised her eyebrows. “I mean, unless you want me to keep wearing this dress, then yeah, I’d like it if you helped me take it off.” 

“So let me get this straight… You’re asking me to help you, not only just _help you_, but help you _take you clothes off_-”

“It’s not like that-”

“_after_ you told me to get away from you because I’m a monstrosity?”

“Okay, first of all, that’s the most dramatic thing I’ve ever heard and not at _all_ what I said.” 

“Can I take a picture real quick? Of this moment? So I can remember it? You _needing_ me? You _begging_ me to help you get out of your dress?” 

She held her hands up. “Nope, nevermind, I’m burning it off, I don’t need you-”

He laughed, “I’m joking, Ames. Come here.” 

He stood up and met her half way so that they were standing in the middle of the living room. She turned around and pulled her hair to one side so it was out of the way. 

“Is that what you were doing in there? Trying to get this off? I could hear a bunch of moving around.” 

She laughed quietly. “Yeah. It was so easy to get on, but of course I couldn’t get the zipper back down by myself.” 

“It sounded like you were doing really aggressive jumping jacks.” He tugged at the zipper, but it didn’t move. “Fuck,” he whispered. 

“What? What’s wrong?” 

He sighed. “The zipper is stuck. Looks like you’re going to be wearing this for a little bit longer,” he hummed after he said it. “Although, if I’m being honest, I do really like the look.” 

“Jake,” she whined. “I don’t want to ruin the dress, we have to get it off.” 

He sighed and tugged at the zipper again. “It isn’t moving, I don’t know what to do-”

“Try holding the fabric right underneath the zipper, then pull it.” 

“I _am_. Believe it or not, even though I don’t know how to balance a checkbook, I _do_ know how to work a zipper. This zipper just _isn’t_ working.” 

She groaned. “Okay, well can’t you like, pull it really hard?” 

“Title of your sex tape,” he whispered. He was so close, leaning forward to inspect the zipper, that she could feel his words on the back of her neck and it sent goosebumps running down her spine. “Seriously, though. It isn’t moving.” 

“Okay, Jake… You’re getting me out of this dress one way or another.” 

“Stop being so bossy-”

“I’m not being bossy, I’m being authoritative.” 

“_Well_, stop being so authoritative. I’m already taking a dress off of you, you don’t need to make me like it _more_.” 

She was suddenly very glad to be facing away from him, and she hoped the tips of her ears didn’t give away that she was blushing _again_ because of him. 

“I wouldn’t have to be so authoritative if you knew how to take a dress off of a woman.” 

He laughed again. “I _know_ how to take a dress off of a woman.” He was quiet for a second. “In fact, I’m willing to bet that’s _exactly_ how this zipper got broken in the first place.” 

Her jaw dropped at the prospect of what he was saying, though that was obviously a very real possibility. Yet again, she was glad he couldn’t see her face. She snickered quietly. “I mean, if you broke it, can you really say you know how to take it off properly?” 

He gripped the fabric around the dress tighter. “You’re suggesting that _anything_ I do is proper.” He pulled on the zipper hard and pulled her backward with it. She stopped moving when she hit an obstacle, his entire body. He cleared his throat. “Sorry.” 

She took a quick step forward. “It’s okay. Can you just like-” she paused and sighed before she finished the sentence. “Do it harder?” 

He sighed more aggressively. “I’m doing it as hard as I can, but nothing’s happening.” 

“Title of your sex tape.” 

He laughed a short, husky laugh. “Maybe that’s how I fell in love with you. Mutual love for sex tape jokes.” 

She let go of the dress, which she had been holding to help give him some leverage, and ran her fingers into her hair. She pulled it up into a bun on top of her head and held it there. “Maybe we really can’t get it off. Do we cut-”

The room really wasn’t even that quiet. Those are the sort of situations that this feeling typically applied to. The sound of the zipper cut through the room, echoing like it was the only sound in the entire world, but they had _just_ been speaking and there were sounds from outside the window and it probably wouldn’t have all felt so surreal if it had happened _just_ slightly differently. 

But her hands were in her hair and he ripped the zipper down with such force that the entire dress came down with it, settling in around her thighs and _never_ in her life had she experienced a moment that actually felt like it was in slow motion, but this was it. Her fingers tangled in her hair and her dress falling to her feet as Jake dropped it, probably out of sheer surprise. The sharp exhale that left his lips when his eyes fell on her bare back, probably travelled lower to the pair of underwear which probably wouldn’t have been the first pair of underwear she’d have chosen for him to see her in if they ever made it to that point, but they entirely lacy on the back and she was sure they were accentuating every curve in a way that was less than appropriate for their current level of getting to know each other. 

Every second felt like an entire minute. Her hands quickly moved out of her hair and down to cover her chest, her hair falling in waves against her back. 

“Should I- Can I-” Jake stammered as he bent down to reach for the dress which of _course_ was helpful, but all Amy could picture was Jake, face-to-_lace_ with her ass as he tried to help and then his hands were at her waist as he pulled the dress back up her body and if she hadn’t been so stupid she would have taken the dress out of his hands and finished pulling it up herself, but she _didn’t_ and then his hands were skirting against the back of her ribs and he was so close again and she was practically squirming under his touch but _not_ because she wanted him to stop touching her. 

He was hesitating to say some word when she realized that she still hadn’t taken the dress from him but they were both clearly _very_ flustered by the situation they were in. She grabbed the dress and stepped away with a quiet, “Thank you,” then scurried off to the bedroom to <strike>suffocate herself with a pillow</strike> change her clothes. 

\--

She was curled up on the bed, wearing shorts and a t-shirt. She wasn’t under the blanket yet and was absent-mindedly playing with a string on her shorts as she stared at the wall. Jake was standing next to the bed on his side, adjusting a few things on his bedside table to avoid facing the inevitable moment in front of him. 

Finally he sighed and turned to face her. “Look, are you _sure_ you don’t want me to sleep in the guest bed tonight? I know things earlier were…” He trailed off quietly.

“Weird as hell?” She offered. 

“Weird as hell, thanks.” He laughed. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” 

She shook her head. “No. It’s fine. This is our normal life. Husband and wife, sleeping in the same bed.” She nodded and visibly swallowed. “_Normal_.” 

“Yeah. This all feels _very_ normal.” 

He waited a moment, then slipped under the blanket on his side. After a moment, she adjust to get under the blanket, too. Just like the night before, she remained a few inches away from him. 

“I didn’t see anything,” he said quietly. 

“What?” 

“I, uh…” He trailed off. He shouldn’t have even brought it up again. “Earlier… With the dress. I didn’t see anything, just so you know.” 

She shrugged. “Not like you haven’t seen it before, I guess.” 

He laughed uncomfortably. “I mean, I only _technically_ have. Since I don’t remember, and all…” He shrugged. “And I didn’t today. So, yaknow… Nothing to feel uncomfortable about.” 

_Nothing_ to feel uncomfortable about. He kept repeating that in his head. Nothing to feel uncomfortable about. He _didn’t_ see anything. So _what_ if she was pretty and so _what_ if she was being kind of mean to him and so _what_ if that was kind of doing confusing things to him _before_ she came in the room and quietly asked him to help her get out of her dress? Her _wedding_ dress. _So what?_

And so _what_ if the image of the curve of her back was behind his eyelids every time he closed them? So _what_ if he could picture the way her hair fell back against her shoulder blades perfectly? So _what_ if he could feel the goosebumps that rose against her skin as he pulled the dress back up, as his fingertips brushed against her ribs and her skin was so _warm_ and she was so _pretty_ in the dim light and _so_ uncomfortable and he just wanted to take all of that away from her and _so what?_

_So what_ if he was turning the image over and over in his head, thinking about his words from earlier in the day? _That’s probably how the zipper got broken in the first place._ _So what_ if he was picturing pulling the zipper down slowly, ghosting kisses all down her spine, every spot where his clumsy, shaky fingers touched as they pulled that same dress back onto her a few hours earlier? _So what_ if it occurred to him that he could have twisted her around, pulled her close to him and found out if she _really_ tasted like peppermint?

Nothing to be uncomfortable about.

“Can we just go to sleep?” She finally asked. “It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow, going back to work and everything.” 

He nodded. 

Yeah. A long day. 

She turned over and switched off the lamp next to the bed. He tried to ignore the sound of her breathing softly next to him, tried to ignore the memory of her pressed against his body when he’d woken up in the middle of the night the night before. 

He closed his eyes, only to be assaulted with the image of her hair falling against her back, his fingers touching her skin. He wanted her closer now, wanted to test the new theory he’d been building in his head. 

She inhaled deeply next to him, startling him out of his thoughts long enough for him to open his eyes and start the process all over again. 

Yeah. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. 

If he could make it through the longest night of his life, first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you noticing a trend? 
> 
> Next chapter, they make it into the precinct. Amy "meets" everyone. V exciting.


	3. Things Aren't the Same Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake and Amy go to the precinct. Amy meets the squad. Charles & Jake have a quick moment, Amy, Rosa, and Gina have a moment. 
> 
> Jake and Amy _also_ have a moment. 
> 
> Title from Fall Out Boy's G.I.N.A.S.F.S.
> 
> _I've loved everything about you that hurts_  
_So let me see your moves, let me see your moves_  
_Lips pressed close to mine_  
_True blue_
> 
> _But the prince of any failing empire knows that_  
_Everybody wants, everybody wants_  
_To drive on through the night_  
_If it's a drive back home_
> 
> _Things aren't the same anymore_  
_Some nights it gets so bad_  
_You almost pick up the phone_
> 
> _Trade baby blues for wide eyed browns_  
_I sleep with your old shirts and walk through this house_  
_In your shoes, I know it's strange_
> 
> _It's a strange way of saying that I know I'm supposed to love you._  
_I'm supposed to love you._

“_Jake_” Amy hit him with the pillow _again_. “Get out of bed, c’mon. We’re gonna be late on our first day back, what’s our captain going to think?” 

Jake groaned. “He already knows us, it’s not a first impression.” 

“It doesn’t have to be a first impression. Get out of bed or I’m leaving you here.” 

He groaned again. “_Fine._”

She waited until he was physically getting out of bed before she left the room to go get their coffee. She had woken up intertwined with him again, but this time she awoke to her alarm blaring at 6:30am. He rolled out of bed at 7:10 and he _still_ wasn’t ready. She would have preferred to have left at seven, just to be safe, yet here she was at 7:15, fuming into her cup of coffee and cursing past/future her (she still wasn’t sure how to refer to this part of herself. It was technically the past, but she didn’t remember it so it was sort of her future?) for marrying a man that was so incapable of doing anything in a reasonable amount of time. 

By the time she looked back up, ten more minutes had passed. 

“Jake,” she yelled as she began her trek back to the bedroom. “_What_ are you doing? I know you joked about it yesterday, but I swear to god if you’re in bed again I’m getting divorce pape-” she trailed off as she walked into the room. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

Jake turned to look at her, looking vaguely like a child who had been caught playing in their mother’s makeup. There were ties strewn all across the bedroom, all of varying shades of blue and gray, the occasional red or plaid thrown in. He had one tied around his waist and two draped over his shoulders. 

“Why do I own so many ties?” He finally asked. 

She made a face at him. “Why do you have a tie around your waist?” 

He pulled at the knot erratically until it loosened. “I forgot how to tie a tie, it’s been such a long time since I’ve done it. I was practicing. I don’t wear ties. I don’t know why I-”

“You don’t wear ties to work?” 

He shrugged. “No.” 

She walked further into the room and pulled the various ties off of his shoulders, then grabbed a few off of the bed and compared them to the shirt he was wearing. She set all the others down and held up a navy tie. “Wear this one.” 

He scoffed. “You’re my wife, not my mom. I’m not wearing the outfit you picked out for me.” 

“I didn’t pick out your outfit. I simply matched a tie for you because we’re running late because _you_ wouldn’t get out of bed. So just put on the fucking tie so we can go.” He stared at her blankly. “Please.” 

He took the tie out of her hands, then set it down on the bed and deliberately picked up a different tie. “I’ll wear a tie, but it’s gonna be this one.” 

“You know what? _Fine_. Wear a blue plaid tie with a green plaid shirt. I don’t even care.” 

He shrugged as he began exaggeratedly going through the motions of tying the tie on his neck. “_Fine._ Good.” After a moment of her watching him with a smug look on her face, he groaned. “Can you just help tie this please?” 

“You’re grumpy in the morning,” she mumbled as she began tying the tie for him. 

He laughed stalely. “Well, thanks to your great and not-at-all-pushy attitude, I’m much more positive than I am most mornings at,” he craned his neck to see the clock, “_7am?_ God, you’re insane.” 

“It’s almost eight now,” she hissed back as she finished the knot. “Now c’mon, let’s go.” 

“Hold on, my coffee’s cold,” he whined as she was walking out the door. 

“You said the other day that you like your pizza display temperature. It’s just display temperature coffee. Let’s _go_.” 

He groaned _again_, but followed her. 

\--

_Ding_

“I’m just saying, we totally had time to stop at the bakery down the street. They have the _best_ breakfast pizza, you would’ve loved it.”

“I wouldn’t have eaten breakfast pizza because that sounds disgusting, and no, we _didn’t_ have time to stop because we’re already running an hour late.”

“We aren’t even actually _working_ today! It’s not like we have a scheduled time to-”

“_Jake?!_” Amy stepped back as a man barrelled toward Jake, slamming into his chest and wrapping him into the tightest hug she had seen in… well, maybe _ever_. 

“Jake! I’ve missed you so much! Are you okay? How are you doing? How is the adjustment? Oh my god, I visited you at the hospital while you were still out, but they didn’t want me to overwhelm you once you woke up and you didn’t remember-” He took a dramatic step back. “_Wait_. Do you remember me?”

Jake laughed. “Yes, Charles. I remember you.” 

Charles sighed in relief. “Great.” He turned, then, to look at Amy. He came toward her to wrap her in a similarly tight hug, but Jake must have caught the look of sheer panic on her face, because he cut in between them before Charles managed to get to her. 

“Amy, on the other hand,” Jake began as he steadied Charles from where he had been bracing himself for a hug, “does _not_ remember. So maybe we give her a little bit of space for now.” 

She hoped that her face showed off the gratitude she was feeling. 

Charles looked between them, a huge smile plastered on his face. “Oh, I see that you’re still the perfect husband, even when you don’t remember getting married-”

He was cut off by Amy’s laughter. When her laughter finally began dying down, she looked up to find Charles looking very unamused. 

“If you break Jake’s heart, you’re breaking my heart, too.” 

“Okay, _Boyle_ nobody’s heart is broken here, it’s _fine,_” Jake shifted his weight as he spoke.

“Is it?” The woman Amy recognized as Rosa began walking toward them. “That was a lot of laughter for fine.” 

Amy shrugged her shoulders. Jake looked at her cautiously, then shrugged as well. “I mean we’re… _okay_.” 

“_Yeah,_” Amy agreed, voice a bit higher than she would have liked. “We’re okay.” 

“Detective Santiago, Detective Peralta,” a voice across the room called. Both of them looked toward the door at the end of the room, at the man standing in front of it. 

“Uhm, hi… Captain?” Amy asked softly. 

He nodded, then smiled sadly. “Yes, hello. I am Captain Raymond Holt. I have been with the nine-nine for six years.” 

“Ah,” Jake commented. “Six years. That’s like,” he began counting on his fingers, “most of the years that we can’t remember.”

“Yes,” Holt agreed. “I was hoping that perhaps we could help to fill in some of the blanks for you until your memories return.” He took a few steps into the room, then stopped walking. “Peralta, where’s your tie?” 

Jake glanced down at his chest and then turned to look at Amy, who made an irritated sound at the back of her throat. 

Jake cleared his throat, then looked up at Holt. “I, uh, took it off in the car. I don’t usually wear ties, but _Amy_ made me.” 

“Then why did you take it off?” 

Jake scoffed. “It was double plaid. I wasn’t going to look like an _idiot._” 

Amy groaned. “You _chose_ the tie. I picked a different one, but you insisted on the double plaid.” 

Holt shrugged. “I guess we’re going to have to relearn all of the lessons I taught you, huh? The next time I see you, I expect you to be wearing a tie.” 

Jake sighed, mumbling something about _uptight_, but he nodded. He tried to ignore Amy’s smug look next to him. He crossed his arms and opted instead for looking around the room, at the precinct that looked quite different than how he remembered it. “Okay, so where are our desks? Maybe we should go through those while we all talk.” 

“Right here,” Charles tapped his hand on Jake’s desk. “Amy’s is across from yours.” 

Amy rolled her eyes and Jake let out an exasperated, “_Great_.” 

A few people around the room raised their eyebrows in response, but nobody said anything. 

“Oookay, so what do you want to know?” Rosa asked. 

Jake picked up a framed photograph of he and Amy smiling at each other. They were both wearing tropical print, she had on a sunhat. They looked like they were on vacation. He looked at the smile on her face in the picture, then glanced at her standing across from him, inspecting her own desk. He hadn’t seen a smile like that on her face, yet.

Amy shrugged. “We’re missing ten years of memories here, so the possibilities are endless.” 

“Maybe just start with the highlights reel,” Jake added. 

Rosa laughed. “Oh, the highlights reel. Okay. Jake was in prison for six weeks. There was witness protection in Florida, what was that- six months? Then Amy, you shot him in the leg when we went to assist-”

“She _what?”_

“I _what?”_

“Yup,” Rosa popped the ‘p’ dramatically before continuing. “There was the safe house situation-”

“You mean where Detective Peralta almost got my husband killed because he felt it necessary to take him to a library dressed as a pervert?” 

Jake snapped his head to look at Holt. “I’m sorry, I almost got your husband killed? You have a husband? I went to a _library_?” 

Rosa nodded, “You don’t remember this, but we’ve been over it. You’re a terrible detective.” 

“Alright, as long as that’s decided…” 

“You guys got _married_,” Charles began. “There was a bomb at your wedding, so you got married in the street.”

“A _bomb_? I guess that’s what I meant in the video, huh?” 

“You saw the video?” Charles gushed. “Did it bring back any feelings?” 

Amy stammered for a moment before Rosa saved her. “You two made a bet about who could put away more bad guys, Jake won. But it was close, don’t worry. So he took you on what he promised would be the worst date of your life. Spoiler alert, it wasn’t. You’re both dummies and you liked each other then, but that didn’t stop you from dating other people-”

“And denying your feelings for what felt like twenty years,” Charles interrupted. 

“So,” Rosa continued, glaring at Charles, “Jake tried to do something nice for you,” she gestured to Amy, “by surprising you with inviting your boyfriend to a work trip where you all basically had a double date. Problem was that in the midst of this, you were already going to break up with said boyfriend.”

“Then you admitted that you liked Jake in front of both of your significant others,” Charles tacked on. 

“So, he became your ex-boyfriend, but Jake and Sophia lasted a while longer.” 

“Yeah, right up until she was the worst and broke Jakey’s heart,” Charles interjected again. “But then you _still_ didn’t date. Jake tried to make himself feel better through all sorts of work-related avenues, but I don’t think he really felt better until the stakeout.” __

_ _Everyone was quiet for a moment. _ _

_ _“The stakeout?” Amy finally asked. _ _

_ _Rosa nodded, “When you kissed for the first time.” _ _

_ _Jake and Amy exchanged glances. _ _

_ _“Then you kissed some more, killed our captain, broke up, got back together, got demoted, got _pro_moted-”_ _

_ _“I’m sorry, did you say we killed our captain?”_ _

_ _“McGintley?” Jake added._ _

_ _Rosa laughed. “Not McGintley. Although he also died. Dozerman. He was only our captain for a couple of days before he walked in on you two in the evidence room. He had a heart attack.” _ _

_ _“Oh my _god_,” Amy gasped. _ _

_ _“But it worked out. The Vulture was our captain for a-”_ _

_ _“The _Vulture_ was our captain?” Jake hissed. “Who let that happen?”_ _

_ _“Well, Holt had been removed from his position by Wuntch, who you’ll meet sometime, I’m sure.” _ _

_ _“Okay, this is a lot and I don’t know who most of the people we’re talking about are,” Amy sat down dejectedly at her desk. “Can we take a break? Also, I’m a sergeant?”_ _

_ _“Ah, yes,” Holt confirmed. “I was calling you Detective Santiago because I didn’t want to overwhelm you. I assumed you wouldn’t remember becoming a sergeant. You’ve been working downstairs, but we left your old desk clear. After doing some research, it looks like you sitting at your old desk could be beneficial for the recovery of your memories.”_ _

_ _“Familiarity,” Amy said quietly._ _

_ _“Plus, with you not actually remembering anything leading up to you becoming a sergeant, we have decided that it would be best if you temporarily remain at detective status. You are not officially being demoted, but in order to ensure that everyone is comfortable until your memory returns.”_ _

_ _She nodded. “I understand.” She _was_ feeling overwhelmed, but also disappointed. She admired the way that her captain, Captain _Holt_ handled the situation with ease._ _

_ _Jake and Amy both went through their desks, trying their hardest to ignore Charles trying to remind them of every memory they’d ever had with each other. Amy officially met everyone on the squad, Hitchcock and Scully, who had been out at lunch when they arrived, and Terry, who had been working a case. Jake found out that Gina no longer worked at the nine-nine, much to his disappointment._ _

_ _Jake had gone on a bit of a tour, trying to refamiliarize himself with the surroundings that were kind of similar to how he remembered them. He was in the evidence room, looking around when he heard a sound behind him that startled him. _ _

_ _He turned quickly to see Amy looking at him, almost nervously. He smiled weakly. “Hey. You okay?”_ _

_ _She nodded, then took a few steps toward him. “Yeah, I just needed to process.” She glanced around the room, then back at Jake. “A lot of change around here, huh?” _ _

_ _He looked at her, squinting his eyes and tilting his head. _ _

_ _“What?” _ _

_ _“I don’t know…” He trailed off quietly. “Almost like deja vu, but no memories to back it up.” _ _

_ _She laughed. They were silent for a moment, both looking around the room. _ _

_ _“Can you believe we basically killed our captain in here?” She finally asked. _ _

_ _He laughed. “Yeah, by making out. He doesn’t sound like he was exactly the best captain out there.” _ _

_ _She shrugged. “Regardless. I can’t believe we were making out at work.” _ _

_ _He laughed again. “Yeah, I can’t picture you ever doing that.”_ _

_ _She turned to look at him, eyebrows scrunched up. “What’s that supposed to mean?” _ _

_ _“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “You’re kind of a prude.” _ _

_ _“I am _not_,” she argued, crossing her arms._ _

_ _“I mean… you kind of are, but okay.” _ _

_ _She rolled her eyes and turned away from him for a moment. She was inspecting some of the boxes to her right when the idea came to her. _ _

_ _“Kiss me.” _ _

_ _Jake took a step back. “Do what now?” _ _

_ _Amy shrugged. “Kiss me. If our kisses were so great that they made you feel better after a breakup and _killed_ our captain, maybe they’ll be good enough to bring back some memories, too.” _ _

_ _Jake swallowed thickly. “I mean… that’s not a bad theory, exactly…”_ _

_ _She took a step toward him so that they were facing one another, inches apart. _ _

_ _“So, just…” he trailed off. _ _

_ _“Yeah, just…” She slid a hand up onto his chest, looking down at her hand, then back up at him._ _

_ _She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t imagined this moment. She’d be lying if she said that she hadn’t wondered how he tasted, wondered how his lips would feel pressed against her own. As much as the thought had crossed her mind during these few short weeks, she’d never really formed a conclusive answer. _ _

_ _She wasn’t sure if she was surprised at his hesitation or not. He’d pulled her in so tentatively, eyes focused in on hers like he was checking in on her. He had her explicit permission, hell it was her _idea_, but he looked like he was making sure she wasn’t changing her mind. The only time his eyes left hers was when they flashed down to her lips, just for a second. Then it was back to her, back to checking in as he pulled her into him. _ _

_ _He dipped his head down, tipping hers back slightly with the hands that were now gently on either side of her face. She felt his thumb rub a little circle against her jaw, still making eye contact, before he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. _ _

_ _It was a soft, gentle kiss. It lasted a few seconds. She didn’t feel sparks. There was no rekindling of memories. It _was_ nice. And when he pulled away, she had already decided that she wasn’t quite done experimenting, yet. _ _

_ _That chaste kiss was _not_ what they had been doing when their captain walked in and had a heart attack. If something was going to bring back their memories, it wasn’t going to be a kiss like _that_. _ _

_ _So as they were looking at each other, still closer than before, but having not reacted much from the kiss, she pulled him back in. She laced her fingers into his hair and leaned him back against the shelving, licking at his lips for permission to enter. He sighed softly into the unexpected kiss, but accepted her. His hands gripped her waist and quickly slid up the curve of her back until he had one hand pressed between her shoulder blades, pulling her closer. _ _

_ _The kiss continued until she had decided that it was _definitely_ a kiss worthy of startling a man into a heart attack, and they both pulled away trying to steady their breathing. _ _

_ _“You taste…” He trailed off, leaning his forehead on hers and closing his eyes for a moment. His voice was weaker when he spoke again. “Like peppermint.” _ _

_ _She laughed softly as he pulled away from her. “I was just chewing a piece of gum.” _ _

_ _He nodded quickly. “Right, right. Cool. Cool, cool, cool.” _ _

_ _“Hey, are you okay?” He had turned away from her, but she moved so that she was back in his line of vision. _ _

_ _“Yeah. I’m just…” He shook his head. “I don’t know, I’m confused.” _ _

_ _She sighed. “Yeah, I was hoping that kissing you would bring back some memories, but I just feel exactly the same as I did before.” _ _

_ _He laughed quietly. “Oh, yeah. Me too.” _ _

_ _But as he watched her smile awkwardly at him and walk away, images of the dream from the other night flickered into his mind. He could see the clothes she was wearing, a pair of jeans and a white blouse with flowers all over it. He could hear her voice, feel her fingers raking through his hair, _taste_ her tongue on his. And it tasted exactly the same in the dream as it did in real life, right in front of him, less than two minutes ago. _ _

_ _So yeah, he was confused. But it had nothing to do with feeling the same as he did before that kiss. _ _

_ _Was that a memory?_ _

_ _It couldn’t have been. He had learned a lot about Amy Santiago in the weeks that they’d been together. She was annoying, she was particular. She was nerdy and punctual. She was _not_ careless. She was not someone who would pull his focus completely from the road in front of them so that she could make out with him in the car. Honestly, he couldn’t picture himself doing that either. Would he pull over on the side of the road in the middle of the night for that exact purpose? Absolutely. But not even glancing at the road once was ridiculous. _ _

_ _He couldn’t tell her about this because it made no _sense_. He was already so confused, and she didn’t need to be more confused, too. They had enough problems as it was without him bringing up some confusing probably-not-memory that was attacking him while he was sleeping._ _

_ _Plus- what would they even do about it if it _was_ a memory? They had no real way of confirming or denying. Even bringing it up made him feel stupid. _Oh, yeah, I think I remembered how we got into the accident. Oh, you want to know how? I think you practically crawled in my lap to makeout with me while I was driving._ Because _that_ would go over well._ _

_ _But even so, even not knowing what to do about it, even deciding that it was better to keep his stupid mouth shut, he couldn’t help but to think about that taste. The taste that was still on his lips, the taste that, feelings for Amy aside, he desperately wanted on his tongue again. _ _

_ _It felt _right_. It felt comfortable. And right now _nothing_ felt comfortable. Was he just grasping at something that he thought felt familiar? Was it that he was attracted to her? Was it just that he couldn’t remember the last time he had kissed someone like that, and it just felt good? Or was it more than all of that?_ _

_ _“Jake, everyone’s leaving.” Charles stuck his head into the evidence room, finding Jake looking dishevelled and surprised. “You okay?”_ _

_ _“Yeah, I’m… I’m fine. Just a lot.” _ _

_ _Charles nodded. “How are you and Amy getting along?” _ _

_ _He shrugged. “Mostly, we’re not.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I mean, she’s cool, I guess. She’s pretty and she’s funny when she wants to be. She’s really smart. But she’s also uptight. And she’s annoying. She’s so particular about _everything_. I guess I just don’t see how I could have married someone like her.”_ _

_ _Charles shrugged. “Opposites attract. You bring out the best in each other.” _ _

_ _“We do?”_ _

_ _“Not at first, you didn’t.” Charles smiled. “Maybe stop trying so hard to fix things and remember who you were then, and focus on just being yourselves and getting to know who you are _now_.”_ _

_ _Jake nodded. “Yeah. Hey, thanks, Charles.” _ _

_ _Charles nodded back. “Any time, buddy.” _ _

_ _\--_ _

_ _“I texted Jake to let him know I was taking you out for a while. I thought maybe you could use some time away from him.” _ _

_ _Amy scoffed. “Is it that obvious?”_ _

_ _“It just looks like you guys are having trouble getting into a rhythm.”_ _

_ _“That’s not quite how I would describe it. There _is_ no rhythm. We’re like exact opposites.” _ _

_ _They stopped to get out of the car, walking into a bar she didn’t remember ever going to before. The sign read _Shaw’s_, and when they walked in, it was a nice little place, decorated with a lot of NYPD pictures and things. They must have all hung out there a lot. _ _

_ _Rosa waved across the room to a woman sitting at a table by herself. There were three beers sitting on the table. Amy tried not to let the anxiety bubble within her as they walked toward the woman. She was in a lot of the photographs, but Jake hadn’t really mentioned her much. Her name was Gina, Amy thought. _ _

_ _“Ames,” Gina called out, using that nickname that Jake always used for her. “I see your memory loss didn’t make you lose your inability to choose exciting clothing.” _ _

_ _Amy scrunched up her eyebrows. “Uh, hi…” _ _

_ _“Give her a break, G. She doesn’t even remember you.”_ _

_ _Gina flinched. “Wow, hurtful.”_ _

_ _“She was just telling me about how Jake is annoying and childish. She wanted to know if he ever stopped being like that.” _ _

_ _Gina and Rosa both took a moment to laugh. Amy glared at the table. This was her life now. Friends with two people who were laughing obnoxiously at her ridiculous situation that she had no idea how to get out of. Gina stopped laughing and looked at her with a look resembling pity. She slid a beer toward her. “C’mon, girl. Drink. You need it.” _ _

_ _They spent a few hours at Shaw’s, Amy complaining about Jake and Gina and Rosa both either agreeing with the complaints, sharing stories where Amy had done things that ten-years-ago Amy never would have imagined, or explaining that the two of them were really perfect for each other, despite how things seemed now._ _

_ _“Amy, you went against direct orders from Holt, who you’re basically obsessed with, by the way, because you trusted Jake. And you _should have_. You always have each other’s backs. Even way back in the beginning when you claimed you couldn’t stand him.” _ _

_ _“I can’t stand him, now,” she groaned. _ _

_ _“The thing is,” Gina added, “Jake isn’t as childish and annoying as he seems. But you’re also more childish and annoying than you think you are, so it really evens out.”_ _

_ _Rosa nodded. “The more you get to know each other, the more this will all make sense. He jokes and he talks and I can see how that would all be abrasive for you, but there are pieces of him that he just isn’t comfortable enough to share with you yet.”_ _

_ _“Yeah, he’s like Rosa.” Rosa glared at Gina. “Except Rosa’s scary, and Jake’s just goofy as hell. But they both have sides of them that they’re not comfortable sharing with everyone. It’s just a facade.” _ _

_ _Amy nodded. “Hopefully you guys are right. I don’t know how much longer I can deal with all of this. We’ve only been living together for like three days and I haven’t enjoyed more than five minutes of it.” _ _

_ _Her mind flashed to the few minutes she _had_ enjoyed, wrapped up in Jake and blankets both of the mornings she’d woken up in bed with him. _ _

_ _“It’ll get easier,” Rosa reminded._ _

_ _“Probably,” Gina added._ _

_ _Amy sighed deeply and continued nursing her third beer. “I just want my old life back. The problem is, I don’t know which _one_.” _ _

_ _“Oh shit, that was deep,” Gina said quietly. They all three sipped their beers in silence. _ _

_ _As they prepared to leave, Gina reached across the table to put a hand on Amy’s shoulder. “Hey, if he’s ever too annoying, just text me. I’ll come by and drag him off to do something with me. Childhood best friends, works every time.” _ _

_ _Amy laughed. “Thanks, Gina.” _ _

_ _“You ready?” Rosa asked. _ _

_ _Amy nodded, and they all said their goodbyes. Rosa was quiet on the drive home. Once they got to Jake and Amy’s apartment, she turned to Amy. _ _

_ _“Hey, I’m not really good at this sort of stuff. But everything’s going to be okay. You found your way to each other before. You’ll do it again.” _ _

_ _Amy nodded. She hadn’t talked about any of the other hundred problems that were plaguing her because the problems with her husband were at the forefront of her mind. But there were so _many_ problems. She was nervous about work, nervous about her captain that she didn’t know. Nervous about things with her family, about getting back to a life that she didn’t even know. Would she be sergeant again if she didn’t recover her memories? _ _

_ _All of this aside, she was still _so_ stressed about everything. She woke up one day and she was in her mid-thirties and there was nothing she could do about that. She felt like she had lost so much time, so much progress, and the only person who understood was _Jake_ and she didn’t even _want_ to talk to him. _ _

_ _“Thanks, Rosa,” she said quietly. _ _

_ _“I have your back, Amy. We’re the sleuth sisters.” _ _

_ _Amy cocked her head to the side, unsure of what that meant exactly, but sure that it was a nice sentiment. She smiled at Rosa. “Thank you.” _ _

_ _As she got out of the car, she looked at the door of the apartment. She waved to Rosa as she pulled away, then faced the door and took a deep breath. _ _

_ __Jake._ _ _

_ _She would have to go inside and talk to him. They hadn’t spoken since earlier in the day, when she practically jumped him in the evidence room and crashed him into a box of murder hammers while she kissed him. She sighed deeply. There was no use in putting this off. They were going to have to talk about it all sometime. _ _

_ _She kissed him. And she _enjoyed it_. She didn’t enjoy being around him much, but she definitely enjoyed _that_. Was that worth talking about? What would she even say? _Hi, I don’t really like you as a person yet but if you wanted to make out for a little while before we went to bed, that would be perfectly fine by me?_ _ _

_ _Maybe she _shouldn’t_ bring it up. It’s not like it changed anything. So what, they kissed. She shrugged to herself as she unlocked the door. They were married. Married people kissed. They kissed and they slept in the same bed and woke up all tangled up in each other, hands pressed against smalls of backs and inner thighs and-_ _

_ _But married people also liked each other, right? They also got along? Married people wanted to spend time with each other, or at least they _should_. _ _

_ _She wished the answer was Jake, but the most normal Amy had felt since she woke up in the hospital, aside from waking up with him, was sitting at the bar with Rosa and Gina._ _

_ _She traipsed through the house quietly. Jake wasn’t in the living room like she thought he would be. She made her way into the bedroom, where she found him already curled up in blankets, sleeping. His eyebrows were scrunched together like he was deep in thought or having a bad dream. _ _

_ _She smiled and made her way over to the bed. He _was_ cute. She didn’t want him to have a bad dream. So she sat on the bed next to him, curled under the blankets and scooched closer. She rubbed her hand comfortingly across his shoulders. “Jake, you okay?”_ _

_ _He jumped awake and looked at her, blinking furiously. He rolled over and closed his eyes again, wrapping an arm around her and nestling his face into her chest. She tensed for a moment, but then he inhaled deeply and she wrapped her arms around him. He must have been having a _really_ bad dream. She kept one arm around him, but moved her other hand up to gently play with his hair. _ _

_ _He shifted, and she thought he was sleeping again but they she felt him mumbling against her neck. “Can I kiss you again?” _ _

_ _“What?” She asked softly. _ _

_ _He was quiet. “Uh, nothing,” he said quickly. _ _

_ _“Hey, Jake,” she said, moving so that he had to shift off of her. He looked at her, eyes still sleepy, but showing off some little bit of vulnerability, too. She leaned closer and kissed him, slow and chaste. Their hands stayed where they were, his on her waist and hers on his side. _ _

_ _The kiss lasted a few seconds, longer than their first, but definitely nothing like the second. He inhaled deeply again and rested his forehead on hers. His eyes were closed again. _ _

_ _“Not peppermint,” he whispered. And with that, he tucked his head back into her neck and snuggled in. _ _

_ _She scrunched her eyebrows up. What the fuck was he talking about? Why did he keep mentioning peppermint? Why did he ask her to kiss him? _ _

_ _Why is _this_ so comfortable when spending normal time with him isn’t? _ _

_ _She reached over and flicked off the lamp before she pulled the blanket up higher and snuggled further into him. She decided that for the moment, none of that mattered. Those were all problems that she could deal with another time. Right now, she had had a long day. Right now, she was craving the comfort that being wrapped in his arms, his warm breath falling on her neck, was bringing her. When she thought too much about it, it all confused her more. _ _

_ _So for now, she _wouldn’t_ think about it. _ _

_ _She yawned quietly and closed her eyes. _ _

_ _She had time._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter was boring but I have some cool stuff planned for this fic I swear. ¨̮


	4. Best Thing 'Bout Tonight's That We're Not Fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a ton of lyrics from Fall for You by Secondhand Serenade, the song from the chapter title. Bc relevant as heck okay bye.
> 
> The best thing 'bout tonight's that we're not fighting.  
Could it be that we have been this way before?  
I know you don't think that I am trying.  
I know you're wearing thin down to the core.  
But hold your breath,
> 
> Because tonight will be the night that I will fall for you-  
Over again,  
Don't make me change my mind.  
Or I won't live to see another day,  
I swear it's true.  
Because a girl like you is impossible to find.  
You're impossible to find.
> 
> This is not what I intended,  
I always swore to you I'd never fall apart.  
You always thought that I was stronger,  
I may have failed, but I have loved you from the start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fingers crossed all my italics worked and I don't need to edit this chapter 2000 times to solve one unclosed bracket problem. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“This is exactly what we need,” Amy confirmed as she raked her fingers through her hair. She looked in the mirror, dabbing at her lipstick. Jake leaned on the doorframe behind her, watching silently. 

“Charles said this is where we had our first date, so maybe it’ll help.” 

“Yeah,” Amy agreed unsurely, “and even if it doesn’t help, maybe it’ll be good for us to be together in a different setting.”

Jake nodded, but Amy couldn’t help but notice that he looked as unsure as her, and maybe even a little irritated. She shrugged the thought away as he walked out of the room, leaving her to dwell on her thoughts and finish her makeup. 

Another month had passed since they left the hospital. Things hadn’t improved at all. No new memories had made themselves known. They still slept in the same bed, still kept their distance at night, woke up together as if they were magnets being pulled closer each night until they were connected in the morning. They still argued or ignored each other for most of every day, somehow made even worse by their contact at work, where Jake managed to be impossibly _more_ annoying. 

He was so cocky and sure of himself, even when he shouldn’t be, and somehow things always seemed to work out in his favor. He’d make a claim that had _no_ evidence, based solely on instinct. He didn’t know how to control his instincts, didn’t know how to separate his actions from his gut feelings, so he was constantly working on impulse and getting the entire squad into situations they could have completely avoided had it not been for him. Then somebody else would come around and help him to fix everything, because of course they weren’t going to let him lose his footing enough that he’d completely fall off the edge of the cliff he’d walked himself onto, although Amy personally thought that might be a valuable lesson for him.

She supposed she wasn’t missing anything at home when she was stuck working late walking back something Jake had done or said. She would just be going home _to_ Jake, to fight and argue about what’s for dinner and where he leaves his socks and how many times you use a towel before you have to wash it (_once_ was the answer) and any of the other two million things that they often found themselves needlessly arguing about. At least at work there were moments to get away, places to get away _to_, away _from_ him. 

And she knew that she wasn’t perfect. She knew that she was on him too much. This was a huge change not only for her, but also for him. He didn’t ask for this, either. There hadn’t been a single moment when she could understand how they had gotten into a relationship, how they had fallen in love with each other, how they were married. _Happily_. She was frustrated, and so was he. They were so _different_. Charles kept trying to tell them that opposites attract, that he’d seen them find each other before. But it took _years,_ last time. They didn’t have years to figure everything out now. She didn’t _want_ to spend years figuring it out. She’d already lost ten years, she wasn’t ready to lose more time to being miserable with him. 

But still, she tried. And so did he. As much as they could, given their situation. But it was, admittedly, much easier to feel optimistic when he wasn’t standing directly in front of her.

“You coming, Ames?” He called from the living room. “Our reservation’s at seven.” 

She stuck her head out of the bathroom to stare at him. “I’m sorry, did you say our reservation is at _seven_?” 

Jake raised his eyebrows at her. “Uh… Yes?” 

She took a deep breath and glanced down at her phone. “You told me you were making the reservations for eight.” 

He nodded. “Yeah, but when I called they were all booked up at eight, so we had to take an earlier res.” 

She sighed again, her patience wearing thinner by the second. “Jake, it’s 6:50.” He blinked at her, clearly not making any connections based on her comment. “It takes twenty minutes to get there.” 

“Okay-”

“They cancel your reservation if you’re five minutes late. We’re going to be _ten_ minutes late.” 

“Not if I shave ten minutes off of the drive-”

“_How_ exactly do you plan to shave ten full minutes off of our drive _through the city_, Jake?” 

“I mean, I was planning on driving really fast.” 

Amy groaned. “Why didn’t you tell me we had an earlier reservation? I would’ve been done earlier and we could have left earlier and-”

“Okay, well if you’d stop arguing about it, we could leave and be closer to making it on time.” 

She threw her hands up. “Honestly, why even bother going. We’re not going to make it on time and we’re just going to fight the whole time, anyway.” 

“Not with an attitude like that, we’re not,” he mumbled under his breath, but somehow still in an almost sing-song voice. 

“Is this a joke to you?” She asked, glaring seriously at him. “Is this all funny to you? Everything going wrong all the time and us practically hating each other, this is all just fine with you?” 

“I don’t hate you,” he said quickly. He bounced back quickly, but he definitely frowned when she mentioned them hating each other. “Ames, will you please just get in the car? We can have a good night, tonight. Let me show you.” 

She stared at him, watching as he pouted his lip out in a way that _wasn’t_ cute, it was _just_ annoying. She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want you to speed. It’s not safe, and it’s not legal.” 

He nodded, offering up his pinky to her. “I swear on my signed copy of Die Hard. I’ll plan a whole new date.” 

She eyed him carefully, but then closed the gap and linked her pinky with his. “Fine. Deal.” 

\--

She stopped asking him where they were going after about twenty minutes, when he’d explicitly refused to tell her each time she brought it up. But when he pulled up in front of some pizza place with a faded sign, she eyed it cautiously. 

“Okay, trust me,” he said softly, assessing her hesitation before she’d even voiced it. “This place… They have really great pizza, and they sell salads too, if you’re _that_ against eating something that tastes good.” He teased her, and she rolled her eyes, but smiled. “And… it kind of means a lot to me,” he mumbled, all in a rush. 

She studied him for a moment, and he shifted uncomfortably the whole time, trying his hardest not to meet her gaze. He was staring out the window, looking at the pizza place, _Sal’s_, or looking out at the traffic driving by them. She wanted to press the issue further, to figure out _why_ this old, sun-bleached building meant a lot to him, but he spoke before she had the chance. 

“You ready?” 

She shrugged. “Yeah, why not?” 

The bell jingled as they walked in the door. It was empty in the lobby, but when the bell rang, an older man in an apron appeared behind the counter, walking into view from behind a wall. His face lit up when he saw them. 

“Jake! Amy!” The man shouted excitedly. 

Amy raised her eyebrows. She had _no_ idea who this guy was. 

“Sal!” Jake replied warmly, making his way across the lobby and extending his arm across the counter for a sort of half-hug. The man made his way out from behind the counter and pulled Jake into a more proper hug, then quickly moved over to pull Amy in for a similar hug. She was moderately uncomfortable, but the man had a sort of grandfather feeling to him, and he clearly knew the two of them. She smoothed her sweater down when he pulled away. 

“How are you two? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. Any news on the baby front?” 

“_Babies_?” Jake asked, practically choking. 

Sal tilted his head as he looked at Jake. “Yeah… Last time I saw you, you let it slip that you were trying.” 

Amy raised her eyebrows, exchanging panicked looks with Jake. “How did that even come up? How come nobody else mentioned this?” 

Sal laughed, but made a sort of face. “You said you were avoiding meat on your pizza-”

“_What?_” Jake asked, maybe even more exasperatedly than when he’d said _babies?_

“-because you were worried about listeria-” Sal continued.

“-because Jake likes his pizza display temperature,” Amy and Sal finished together. Jake turned and looked at her, eyes wandering over her with an expression she couldn’t quite place. He almost looked nostalgic, but it’s not like he _could_ be.

“You don’t remember?” Sal asked. “Wait… You _are_ Jake and Amy, right?” 

Jake laughed. “Yeah, it’s us.” 

Amy nodded in agreement. “Yeah. We were actually in an accident,” she began to explain. 

“Basically, I don’t remember anything past the time someone set your building on fire, and Amy doesn’t even remember meeting me,” Jake finished. 

Sal furrowed his eyebrows. “You… don’t remember? Each other?” He asked, seemingly shocked. 

Both Jake and Amy exchanged glances, sharing a variety of shrugs and head shakes. 

“Oh, no,” Sal shook his head sadly. “But you two… You’re so in love.” 

Jake laughed. “Not right now, we’re not.”

“Alright,” Sal said after a moment of staring between them sadly, moving back behind the counter and adjusting his apron. “You two go sit down and get to know each other a little better. I’m going to handle all of this.” 

“Don’t we need to order?” Amy asked. 

Sal shook his head. “I know your exact orders,” he confirmed. “You just focus on each other.” 

And with that, he disappeared into the back, leaving Jake and Amy to walk into the seating area and choose a table. 

Amy twisted around, taking in everything around her. It was a small place, homey and comforting. There were photographs all around the walls, mostly of different notable places in the area, but also pictures of people enjoying Sal’s pizza, enjoying the company of each other. Amy glanced over at a booth right next to a big window. 

“How about there?” She asked. “Lots of natural light.” 

He laughed. “Of course that’s what you’d notice. More importantly, look at the picture at that table. Of _course_ that’s where we’re sitting.” 

Amy looked closer at the picture as she slid into the booth. Posed with Sal, both smiling and doing a thumbs up, was Bruce Willis. She raised her eyebrows and looked at Jake. “Is that Bruce Willis?” 

He nodded. “Yeah. About fifteen minutes after I left. I worked here part-time in high school and I missed Sal’s _seven_ calls.”

“Oh my _god_,” she said softly. She leaned in closer, quickly getting absorbed in the story. She still didn’t know a _ton_ about Jake, but she knew how important meeting Bruce Willis would have been to him. “What were you doing instead?” 

He shook his head and looked down at the table. She watched as his jaw clenched and unclenched a few times, but he didn’t say anything. Amy could feel the tension rising between them. 

“It’s-” Amy began, at the same time that Jake began speaking. 

“I’m just-” 

He paused, and they both stammered and hesitated before he laughed, lightening the mood a little. 

“You don’t have to,” she said gently, tacking on a genuine, encouraging smile. 

He smiled back, but it didn’t touch his eyes. He was back to looking down at the table. She could see the discomfort rolling off of him in waves, and she watched as he tried more than once to shrug it away. 

“It’s just a lot of… _stuff_.” He nodded, more to himself than to her, then glanced up at her. He frowned, lips pressed tight. “We haven’t really shared any of our _stuff_.” 

“Oh,” Amy said quietly. She completely understood. She had things that she hadn’t shared with him that she definitely wasn’t comfortable talking about, yet. “Jake, it’s fine. We don’t have to talk about it right now.” 

“It’s just stuff with my dad,” he said, his words all tumbling out in a rush22. He was looking under the table now, pulling at one of the buttons on his shirt. “During one of the times he came back. It’s not that important.” He quickly pulled his hands up, grabbed a napkin from the napkin holder, and began unfolding it. 

She recognized that he was looking for something to do with his hands. She also recognized that he was probably the most uncomfortable she could remember ever seeing him. So she reached across the table and slid the napkin away from him, to which he furrowed his eyebrows and stared at her in confusion. Then she slid her hands into his. 

He looked down at their hands, his not quite responding to hers. He glanced between her face and their hands. She tried to keep her smile in place, but she was faltering as she toyed with the thought of the rejection she was facing. She hadn’t thought about it prior to grabbing his hands. She saw that he was stressed, and she wanted to help. That was what made the most sense, in the moment. Now, however, she was regretting that. There was tension in his eyebrows, but when he finally looked up at her, his eyes were soft. 

He rubbed little circles on her hand with his thumb. “Thank you.” 

She smiled and squeezed his hand softly. 

Sal came out, a wide grin in place at the sight of them holding hands on the table. They quickly broke apart, Jake clearing his throat uncomfortably. 

“Ah, I see you chose your table,” Sal commented, setting two drinks down on the table for them. 

Once Amy had pulled her hands away from Jake’s, she began tracing some indentations on the table, looking directly at Sal. 

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “I liked this one because of the natural light.” 

“No,” Sal corrected himself. “I see you chose _your_ table.” 

Amy wrinkled her eyebrows, looking around the table. The wall was lined with other photographs besides the Bruce WIlis one, but she hadn’t looked at them because she was busy talking to Jake. When she began looking, she found that a variety of the pictures were of _them_. A picture of Jake and Amy, posed with Sal at their wedding. Jake, head tipped back, laughing at Charles, who was eating a slice of pizza with questionable toppings, while Amy made a face at him. Pictures that seemed to span years. Then, at the bottom, there was a picture of a little boy with a much younger looking Sal. The boy was grinning wide, his two front teeth missing from his smile. His curls were wild, tipping onto his forehead the way that Jake’s much shorter and better managed curls did, right in front of her. She turned to look at him. He was also looking at the pictures. 

“Is that you?” She asked. 

He leaned toward the picture and laughed a short, happy laugh. The sound brought a smile to her face. 

“I think I was six,” he laughed more as he finished. “I didn’t even know you still had that picture.” 

“And I see Amy found your names,” Sal continued. 

Amy raised an eyebrow and looked at him, and she and Jake shared confused glances. Sal looked down at her hands pointedly, and she and Jake followed his gaze. 

The indentations Amy had been running her fingers over were actually a carving in the wooden table. _Jake & Ames 4eva_. 

They both looked at Sal, who was beaming at them. Amy turned toward Jake. “You carved our names into his table?” Her tone was accusatory, and that wasn’t exactly how she’d intended it, although she _was_ irritated that he would deface public property. Jake’s face twisted up at her response, and she immediately felt bad. 

“I don’t even-” 

“Hold on,” Sal interrupted. “I _asked him_ to do it.” They both snapped their heads toward Sal. “Because when we got the new tables from the insurance company after the fire, he had mentioned that it almost felt like a whole new place with the brand new tables. He was so used to feeling the carvings in the table. Who better to break them in than the two of you?” 

Amy tried to ignore Jake’s intense eye contact. 

“Anyway, I just came out here to drop off those drinks and to say that the food should be ready in the next ten minutes.” 

Jake smiled in Sal’s general direction, but never took his eyes off of Amy. He was still glaring at her once Sal had walked away, completely into the back of the building. She slid her glass of water closer to her, then traced the trail of water it left in its path. When she looked back up, he was still silently scowling at her. 

“What?” Her voice was soft, weak from carrying the weight of all the things she wasn’t sure how to say. 

“Why are you always so ready to fight?” She shook her head like she didn’t understand, then opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted her. “It’s like it doesn’t matter what happens, you’re always mad at me. Even when I don’t do anything wrong. How are we supposed to get through this if you don’t even _try_ to like me?” 

Her eyebrows knit together. “I _am_ trying to like you.” 

He scoffed. “Well, you’re not trying very hard.”

“Well, you’re not trying very hard to be likable.” 

He scoffed again, quieter than before, and turned his head. His lack of response left her feeling a twinge of regret, but then his eyes were trained back on her and she couldn’t walk back what she’d said, she needed to stand her ground because she _wasn’t_ wrong. He was so unapologetically him, and he wasn’t trying to make this any easier for her so why should she compromise herself just to make this easier for him? Why should she have to be even more uncomfortable when everything was already so uncomfortable as it was?

“Why are we even doing this?” He stared at the table as he said it, but he slowly looked up until he was staring unsurely at her face. 

“What?” 

“Why are we doing this?” He repeated himself, more stern. “If I’m so unlikable that you can’t even…” He took a deep breath. “If that’s all this is going to be, then _why_ are we doing this?” 

Amy stared at him, trying to figure out what to say, but she hadn’t had even a quarter of the time she needed to figure out what her answer would be before he was talking again.

“Are you scared?”

“Scared of what?” 

He looked at her again, that same look in his eyes from earlier. “Scared of being alone.” 

“No,” she answered automatically. She’d been alone before. She wasn’t afraid to be alone. 

“I’m afraid,” he replied. His voice was stoic, and he was back to staring a hole into the table. “I’m afraid that we really were meant to be, or whatever the fuck…” He paused abruptly, trying to gain control of his emotions with another deep breath. “And we were in love. And now we’re _this_. And I don’t take marriage lightly, and I don’t want to get divorced.” 

She was watching him silently, trying to figure out the right thing to say. She had always been so good at saying the right things when it really counted. When she was finally about to say something, Jake’s eyes fell upon her face, and his blank look took the words right out of her mouth. 

“What if this was really it?” He continued. “You know? What if this was our chance, and we _had it_ and now it’s gone?” He paused. He shook his head sadly, then rubbed at the corner of his lip. “I just don’t see how I could have married someone like you,” he said softly. The words were so rough, but he said them so kindly. “I mean, objectively, you seem like a great person. But…” 

He was doing such a great job at controlling his emotions, but Amy could feel hers rising within her. He was sitting across from her, calmly telling her in the nicest way he could manage that she was so terrible that he couldn’t even begin to understand how he had married her- not _her_, he couldn’t even understand how he could marry someone _like_ her. 

Ridiculous!

When _he_ is the one who starts at _least_ half of their fights. He’s the one who’s constantly irritating her, who’s picking and picking until she _can’t_ ignore him, until she snaps and yells at him but then it’s _her_ fault for being so upset. He’s always making stupid jokes about her and watching everything she does so closely that he can always bring it up at the exact moment that it benefits him. 

He’s always there, always acting like some character, always laughing about something that isn’t funny, always doing a voice or a bit or a really good job in a really annoying way, and she just had to watch it all happen. It’s not like she could tell him to stop. He wasn’t _officially_ doing anything wrong. And it’s not like she hadn’t made it known that he bothered her with all of these things. He was always bending the world to fit into whatever idea he has in his head at the moment. 

He’s always so focused on what’s next that he doesn’t have time for the task at hand. He’s always so stuck in his own stuff, in his own ideas and ways that he lets himself completely bulldoze others without even noticing, and _yes_ everyone pointed it out to him when he did it, but that hadn’t stopped him yet. That’s exactly why they all called him the worst second in the precinct. 

He was always picking up on things that maybe she couldn’t. He was ready for all of the change that struck her so much. He was handling all of this so much _better_ than her, and _fuck_ she resented him for it. But of course he was handling this with such ease. He was non-committal, growing bored at the drop of a hat. He was impulsive and incapable of making a well-informed decision. He didn’t take the time to think about these things, he just moved on to whatever was next on the list that he _didn’t even make_ because he wasn’t even organized enough to do that, but _she_ was the problem?

“_You_ don’t see how you could have married someone like _me_?” 

Jake sighed. “This is exactly what I’m talking about, Amy. I’m not trying to fight with you. It’s just… It’s like we’re diametrically opposed.” 

Amy scoffed. “Diametrically? Did you look that up in a dictionary?”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, first of all, I’m _not_ stupid,” he hissed, and she wanted to correct him, but he didn’t give her the chance. “Second, nobody uses a dictionary anymore, you giant nerd. If I looked it up, it would have been on the internet.” He rolled his eyes again. 

“I wasn’t saying you were stupid,” she corrected quietly. “I just meant that it’s a word I didn’t expect to be in your general vocabulary. It’s not a super common word, is all.” 

He rolled his eyes _again_, even more dramatically. “I learned it when Gina made me go see Hamilton with her.” 

Amy groaned. “What are we even arguing about?” 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying! All we do is fight, and for _what_? We’re no closer to being in love than we were the day that we woke up in the hospital. Actually, we might be even _further_ from being in love.” 

“At least we agree about _something_,” she laughed quietly. 

Jake shrugged. “Okay, so, here’s my proposal. Tell me what you think. I say… We break up.”

Amy waited a moment, but he didn’t continue. “That was the whole plan?” 

“I was judging your reaction to see if I should continue,” he replied, raising his eyebrows. “We break up, and I move into the guest bedroom. That way if the memories start coming back, I’m still there.”

“And we don’t have to spend the extra money to rent a second apartment,” Amy agreed, always thinking more about logistics than he did. “And then what? What if the memories don’t come back?” 

Jake shrugged. “I don’t know. I hadn’t gotten that far with the plan.” 

“And what are we doing… in regard to each other? Are we still trying to work this out?” 

He shook his head. “I don’t see why we should. It clearly isn’t working. We need to find a way to do this so that we aren’t both miserable.” 

“You’re miserable?” 

He blinked rapidly. “Aren’t you?” 

She frowned, but didn’t say anything. “So what if… one of us meets someone else?” 

Jake frowned, too. “I don’t know...” 

They both stared down at the table. Crazy, Amy thought, that just a few minutes earlier, she was timidly reaching across the table to hold his hand. And now they were discussing the logistics of breaking up. Even crazier, the thought that kept crossing her mind was that she wasn’t ready to give up the only constant, positive thing in her new life: waking up in Jake Peralta’s arms. 

She had apparently worked extremely hard and gotten the job she dreamed of having, but she couldn’t remember it and no longer held the position. She was in an uncomfortable work situation, with a Captain she couldn’t remember and didn’t know how to speak to. She was in a relationship that was full of turmoil, the physical embodiment of the _it’s complicated_ relationship setting on facebook, and she faced every day with a _what could be worse than this_ attitude, but every morning, she woke up in his arms. And every night, she looked forward to the feeling that she knew she’d have in the morning. 

Was that something she was going to give up so easily? 

“So, what do you think?” 

Amy stared at Jake, at the curls falling onto his forehead. She watched his eyebrows raise, then relax again. Her eyes trailed over every part of his face, from the little dimple in his chin, to his lips, curling downward with tension at the corner, all the way up to the tension lines in his forehead. 

Everyday that they had been together, his face had been some variation of that expression. Jake was always smiling, it had seemed. But as the days went on, she saw him smile less and less frequently. And for every smile he had, she had at least half as many. 

Being together was harming them more than it was helping them. It wasn’t repairing their memories, and it was effectively wrecking whatever relationship they could have potentially had. 

“Okay,” she said firmly, nodding her head. 

“Okay?” 

“Okay. Let’s break up.” 

He nodded, sighing and allowing his lips to relax into a small, uncomfortable smile. “I don’t know if I’ve ever broken up with a girl _before_ dinner.” 

Amy laughed. “Maybe you just don’t remember.” 

His laugh bubbled out of him, genuine and caught off guard. She smiled at him, and when Sal came out to drop off their pizza and salad, it was easy for both of them to smile back at him. 

She made a quiet, disgusted sound as Jake shoveled the largest bite of pizza she had ever seen into his mouth. He held his hand out to catch the excess pieces of meat that fell off of the slice before he could cram it into his mouth. 

“It’s just so bad for you,” she commented before neatly tucking a bite of her salad into her mouth. 

Jake _mostly_ finished chewing his bite before he began speaking, but Amy still grimaced at the state of full that his mouth was at the beginning of his sentence. “Look, Ames. Maybe you can fool the rest of the world with your _I’m Amy Santiago, and I eat salad because it’s healthy_ schtick. We may not be dating anymore, but I’m still your _husband_. I know you only eat salad so much because you’re terrible at cooking and it’s the easiest thing for you to make at home.” 

She rolled her eyes and tossed a lettuce leaf at him. He ducked away as it fluttered gently to the table, then jumped dramatically as if touching the green thing would give him the plague. She rolled her eyes, but her laughter surrounded them until they were both laughing. Their dinner continued, the two of them lightheartedly teasing each other.

That was easily the best they had gotten along since she remembered knowing him, Amy thought as she sat on the edge of her bed. When they’d gotten home from dinner, she helped him to move all of his things into the guest room. He made jokes and she laughed _with him_. She made comments about his eating habits or him being childish and he stuck his tongue out at her, and she just rolled her eyes and laughed even though he had food in his mouth. 

Logically, this all made sense. There was no pressure for them to fix things now, because they were, technically, broken up. It was easier for her to laugh around him when everything didn’t feel like it had a double meaning. Every action he made didn’t feel like it was targeting her so much now, now that they had made the call to go from _Jake and Amy_, to Jake, and also, separately, Amy. 

They had _just_ made that call. She _knew_ that that’s why they had gotten along so well for a few hours. She knew that they were bound to fight and argue more in the coming weeks. But that did nothing to quell the thoughts that were making themselves known in her head. 

She wished that he was getting into _her_ bed. They’d gotten into bed together every night for the nearly two months since they’d gotten out of the hospital. Was it the familiarity she was craving? Was it just because he was warm, and she was always so cold? Was it because it was nice to have someone else’s steady breathing next to her as she fell asleep?

Or was it more than that?

What if this was all a mistake? 

What if they _should_ keep fighting for their relationship? What if Jake was right? What if this really was it for them? What if they were each other’s _one_? What if they’d fallen in love, but due to some series of unfortunate events that seemed like it came straight out of a Lemony Snicket book, they’d lost that? What if they never got it back? What if they never fell back in love?

And they were just giving it up so easily? 

She stood up and made her way to the door, but as soon as she touched the handle, she paused to think. 

_No._

It made no sense. Jake was right the first time. They were solving nothing by doing what they were doing. If they didn’t change their actions, nothing was going to change. Clearly familiarity was _not_ the answer, otherwise one of them would have gotten some memories back by now. Familiarity sucked. Familiarity was making both of them _miserable_. 

She paced back over to her bed slowly, trying her hardest to swallow back the anxiety forming in her chest. 

What if they were wrong? 

What _was_ the right answer? 

She felt like she was standing in the middle of the road with trucks coming at her from both directions. No matter which way she turned, it wasn’t going to end well. 

She flicked off the light and curled up under the comforter, tucking herself in more than she normally had to, on account of Jake’s warmth being absent from his side of the bed. She took a deep, slow breath and tried to shrug off all of the confusing feelings she was at war with. 

Maybe it was the wrong choice. She had no way of knowing. She couldn’t explain why, but this all felt so _wrong_. But even as it felt wrong in the moment, sitting with him at Sal’s, joking together after it felt like the world had been lifted from their shoulders felt so _right_.

She had one final thought before she drifted off to sleep. 

_At least they weren’t fighting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I did NOT love this chapter, but it was an important one, for obvious reasons. Hope you don't hate it or me. ¨̮


	5. I Keep My Jealousy Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake's inner turmoil over suggesting that they break up, plus what it's like between them after the break up. 
> 
> Chapter title from Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner by Fall Out Boy. 
> 
> _I keep my jealousy close,_  
_'Cause it's all mine._  
_And if you say this makes you happy_  
_Then I'm not the only one lying._
> 
> Took me like a hundred years to choose a title for this chapter and I wanted one about friendship but I couldn't find one so I stuck with jealousy because whyyyyyy not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking foreverrrr to update all my current projects! I've been so busy with school and now preparing for graduation and a bunch of major life changes. ¨̮ I also KEEP taking on more projects that I get so excited about, but don't necessarily have the time for. I'm doing a ton of writing behind the scenes, but taking forever to share it with everybody. 
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy!!
> 
> If it isn't clear, there's a few weeks time jump after the first part of this chapter.

Jake rolled over to look at his clock. 

_3am._

He sighed again. Fuck this night. Fuck that car accident, fuck amnesia, and fuck his stupid, confusing feelings. And also, while you’re at it, fuck his stupid, confusing fucking dreams, too. Or dream, individual, since it’s the same one that’s woken him up three times during this night. This stupid, fucking night. 

He’d been staring at the ceiling for almost two straight hours now, trying his hardest to close his eyes and shrug off the thought that had been harassing him all night. _Why_ did he suggest that they break up? 

What happens now? They’re broken up. That’s just the first step to a formal separation. And yeah, things have been pretty much the worst as of late, but wouldn’t it be worse if he woke up with his memories one day and the girl who was apparently the love of his life had moved on because he suggested that they break up at _their table_ at Sal’s? 

He tugged his fingers through his messy curls, tangled from the constant attention throughout the night. He hadn’t even thought about having made the suggestion at Sal’s. Now when he recovered his memories, he’d have to deal not only with losing her, but also with ruining his favorite pizza place. Then Sal’s going to be disappointed because he’s going to want to spend less time there and then he’s gonna be guilty over that, too. 

God, he didn’t even really _like her_ that much, but he’s up in the middle of the night tormenting himself over their impending divorce, which may or may not happen, but if it does, it was 100% because he said they should break up in a heated moment. What a fucking stupid idea. How would they ever fall in love now that they were broken up? Now that he specifically said that they shouldn’t even try to fix things between them? He couldn’t picture really _wanting_ to fall in love with her, but he’d seen the pictures on his phone. He knew that was how the story was supposed to end. He loved her. That much was obvious. Even if he didn’t feel it now, he knew he was supposed to. 

But now… What happens now? There were no rules for this situation. How would he fix things between them if there _was_ no them? The answer, he realized as he rolled over, burying his face in his pillow, was that he wouldn’t. They were broken up. They would be separated. And eventually, they would get divorced. Just like his parents. 

He did everything right, so he’s heard. He fell in love with the perfect girl. He worked through every fight they’d had, he’d learned to compromise. He managed to get through some of the worst situations he could imagine with her by his side. How could he have done everything exactly right, but he was _still_ going to end up divorced, forced to start over at almost forty? 

It made perfect sense. It must run in his family. Even when he did everything right, even when he was the perfect husband (or so Charles has repeatedly said), even when he had a happy marriage full of laughter and smiles that are captured in hundreds of pictures, he was going to end up divorced and alone. It’s some kind of curse that his father passed on to him. Ever the fuck up, as Peralta men are. It was unavoidable. 

The situation was unravelling further and further in his mind, and he found himself tiptoeing out of the bedroom for the fourth time that night, making his way to her door and hesitating there. This time, he actually raised his fist to knock lightly before he realized that it wouldn’t do him any good. He felt the wood grain on the door as his knuckles silently slid down. He wanted comfort, and he wanted her to bring that comfort, but he wasn’t naive enough to think that he’d actually be comforted by knocking on her door and asking to crawl into bed with her at 3am like some sleepy four-year-old, torn from his sleep by a recurring nightmare. Although that’s _exactly_ how he was feeling, and he knew exactly what it felt like to wake up in the middle of the night after that dream with her snuggled into his chest, and he knew now that waking up after that dream _without_ her shifting in response to his movements and making soft sounds of protest in her sleep felt _much_ worse. 

He shook his head, pounding his fist lightly into his palm as he stalked back to his room. Once he was in there with the door shut safely behind him, he leaned his head on the door and closed his eyes. He couldn’t get back in his bed and suffer the rest of the night like this. It had been hours, and he was already losing his mind. Each breath felt strangled under the weight of the… it wasn’t _fear_, was it? He just couldn’t imagine going back to sleep and having to watch the same dream play out before his eyelids. He couldn’t imagine seeing her, arms crossed and clearly mad at him the way that he’d seen her look so much lately. He couldn’t imagine tasting her tongue on his, all to be torn from his sleep gasping as the headlights of the car that did all of this to him came crashing into him. That stupid song was going to be stuck in his head forever. 

That stupid song. 

What even _was_ that stupid song? 

He was shocked that it hadn’t occurred to him before. Sure, it wouldn’t solve everything, but if he could find the song, he would at least know whether or not it _existed_. It wouldn’t really tell him if the whole thing was a memory or not, but there had to be some reason the song was repeating over and over in his head. Was it real, or was it something he’d just made up? 

He walked across his room, flopping unceremoniously on the bed before smoothing his fingers through the folds of his comforter in search of his phone. He’d spent some time playing with the apps on his phone in his free time, trying to identify what all of them were for. He quickly located the little blue compass, which weirdly _wasn’t_ for directions.

_What was that song?_

He closed his eyes, picturing the dream as he tried to recall the words. 

His eyes snapped back open as soon as he latched onto a line, quickly typing out the words he could remember. _Your fingers through my hair, that’s on my mind._

A video popped up, two people sitting back to back. Video released in 2018. He knew the video was going to be distracting, and he didn’t have time for extra distractions. He quickly exited the compass app, searching for the green circle with the lines that he could never seem to remember the name of. _Spotify._ He typed _fuck, i’m lonely_, clicked the first option that came up, and then locked his phone screen. 

He laid back against his pillow, staring up at the ceiling as the music flowed out around him. It was such an upbeat song, but he found himself holding his breath as he listened to the lyrics. 

_I don’t know, I don’t know how I’m gonna make it out._

He laughed quietly. It’s like the song was made for him. No wonder it managed to make it through the amnesia. As the chorus came and went, there was no denying that this was _definitely_ the song from the dream. It was a real song. He had a memory. 

But what did it mean? 

_I miss those nights when you would come over, spend all night just trying to get closer. That was June and now it’s October. I don’t want, don’t wanna get over you._

He shook his head and tossed the phone down on the bed, not bothering to shut it off. The words repeated as he pulled his laptop into his lap, waiting for it to turn back on because Amy said it was _bad for the computer to keep it on all the time._ He rolled his eyes, because it was taking forty-five seconds longer than he wanted it to take because he had important questions and he was really hoping that _somebody_ had the answers. 

After what felt like an eternity, he was on the little compass app on the laptop, typing in google, and trying to figure out exactly what his question even _was_. 

He stared at the cursor, chewing at his lip absentmindedly as he thought. 

_how do you remember memories when you forget them_

That search brought him to some extensive information about how the brain remembers things, which was much more on the technical side of things than what he was actually looking for. After scrolling a little bit and finding nothing but information on how _to forget_ memories you didn’t want to remember, he rolled his eyes and started a new search. 

_amnesia and memory retrieval_

He sifted through a variety of scholarly articles with words that he didn’t know and sentences that quickly had his eyes drifting shut. The song restarted and startled him, and just as he was about to rephrase his new search out of frustration, an article caught his eye. 

This one was _much_ easier to read, and it provided much more useful information than their doctor had given them when they found out that they were both suffering from amnesia. It talked about causes of amnesia, which _hello_, he clearly didn’t need to know because he’d figured that part out on his own. But way down at the bottom, it talked about recovery of memories.

Jake read and reread the final paragraph. Amnesia is usually temporary. It often only lasts a few hours or a few days, but in some special cases, it can last weeks, or even months. He scoffed quietly. He always knew he was special, but for the first time in his life he was really starting to think that was a bad thing. Typically, older memories are recovered first, but eventually the more recent memories are recovered as well until all memory is recovered. 

Then why was he remembering something that happened right before the accident? Or even remembering the accident itself? 

He searched and researched different terms, different phrases, trying his hardest to come up with _some_ sort of reason why he was having this memory, if it even was a memory. Maybe he remembered the song, but the rest of it wasn’t really a memory. But they kissed and she _did_ taste like peppermint and that was undeniable, so that was two different events from the nightmare that were proven to exist in some capacity. 

Could he be remembering _part_ of a memory? Maybe it was more than one memory but his broken brain was just shifting them all around and combining them like it was trying to bake a cake with the wrong ingredients or something. That was a thing, right? 

Google didn’t know that, and neither did he, but _none of this made sense_. Would it ever make sense?

“Jake?” 

He jumped at the light knocking, and slammed the laptop shut as Amy cracked the door open. They both blinked at each other, Amy’s eyebrows raised in surprise at Jake’s reaction and his raised in surprise that the room was so bright and he hadn’t even noticed. The song was still playing, quietly muffled by his pillow, and he reached under to shut it off. 

She still hadn’t said anything, but her eyes were flickering between his face and the computer on his lap, her expression switching from that of confusion to that of understanding. She bit her lip to stifle a laugh and choked out an apology before she began to back out of the room. 

“No, Amy, it’s not, I wasn’t-” He groaned as she shut the door, laughing loudly on the other side. He glanced over at his clock. 7am. 

He had spent four hours researching memory recovery and come up with approximately zero answers. He still had no idea if those were really memories or if his mind was just playing tricks on him. And _now_, Amy thinks she just walked in on him doing something _completely_ different with his computer at 7am, so that was a situation that he didn’t think he was going to have to deal with before he had coffee, but his life is full of situations like that these days. He should be used to it. 

He walked out of the room, dressed for work and all too aware of her scrutinizing, playful gaze. “You have a good morning?” She said quietly, and even though she didn’t actually laugh, he could hear her voice threatening to betray her. 

He sighed in response, sure that either a yes or a no would land with some sort of successful joke for her, and while he was glad that she had figured out how to laugh a little bit, he wasn’t sure he loved that it was at his expense. At least not after the night he’d just had, which, though he wouldn’t tell her, _wasn’t_ good. 

He opened a cabinet, pulled out a mug, and poured himself some coffee, careful to not look up and meet the gaze that he could feel on him. 

“Jake, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

He sighed again. “That’s not…” He shook his head. “Listen, I think we need to talk a little.” 

She interrupted him again. “Hey, I’m sorry. Next time I’ll wait for you to respond before I come in, I just thought you would be asleep.”

He stared at her for a moment, eyebrow raised, before he just decided to laugh it off. “Not about that. About work.”

“About work?” She leaned on the counter and took a sip from her own mug, waiting for him to continue. 

“Yeah. I just mean… You know, Charles checks in with us to see how we’re doing, vis a vis the relationship, practically every day.” 

“Oh… Yeah.” 

“Yeah. So, I think maybe we shouldn’t tell anybody.” 

She scrunched up her eyebrows. “Not tell anybody? Why?” 

Jake shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you think Charles can take that heartbreak right now? He has a lot going on.” 

They exchanged looks, then both took some time to drink their coffee while it was still hot. Jake leaned on the counter across from her on his elbows. 

“And plus, what if we get our memories back in like a week? Then we put him through all that for nothing.” 

Amy made a quiet sound at the back of her throat. “I guess I just feel like maybe Charles shouldn’t be the reason we make big decisions in our relationship.” 

Jake hummed quietly. “Look, if you really want to tell everyone, that’s fine. But I can guarantee that however much Charles bothers you now, that will increase by like, a gajillion.” 

She raised her eyebrows and looked down at the counter. “Fine. I guess it won’t hurt if we just keep this between us.” 

“Great.” He smiled genuinely at her. “We’ll just have to pretend that we’re still trying to work it out. You know, just for them.” 

She frowned, adding a quiet sigh of disappointment. “Man, I guess that means I can’t tell people what I walked in on you doing in your room this morning-”

“_Not_ what I was doing,” he shouted after her, but she was already walking out the door, laughter bubbling out of her. He smiled and shook his head. They were right about this. He’d laughed with her more in the few hours since they’d broken up than he had in all of the weeks leading up to that moment. This was a good idea.

\--

Jake groaned, long and drawn out. His face was buried in his hands, and even without looking up, he could tell that everyone was looking at him. “Just tell us about the murder, Cap.” 

The room was silent, and after almost a minute had passed, he looked up to find Holt’s quiet, disappointed glare aimed at him. “What?” 

“How many times, Detective Peralta, must I remind you not to call me ‘Cap’?” He paused for a moment, but Jake just shrugged dejectedly, so he continued. “I’m getting to ‘the murder,’ Jake. I’m getting through all of the other important details of this case.” 

“_What_ other important details? I heard this is a rough one, Cap-...tain Holt. I heard there’s one body, but _two_ dumpsites. I’m talkin’ dismemberment, y’all.” 

He looked across the room, finding Rosa smirking at him, and Amy making her typical ‘what’s wrong with you?’ face. He wrinkled his eyebrows and made a face at her before looking back at his extremely unamused captain. 

“Before we get into the specifics of the murder, I want to set aside some time to figure out who is going to be investigating the-”

“Oh, oh, me! I’ll do it! I’ll investigate, pick me!” 

Holt sighed. “You know what, _fine._ Peralta, Santiago. You’re on the case. You take dumpsite one.”

Jake, Amy, and Charles all made sounds of protest. 

“_Amy?!_” Jake and Charles both shouted. Jake looked at Charles pointedly before he continued. “Don’t you think Amy and I spend _enough_ time together?” 

“I _think_,” Holt blinked slowly, “that if you have a problem with it, I can send Diaz with Santiago instead. Does that sound better?” 

Jake shook his head, grumbling quietly. Amy stayed quiet, as he’d expected her to. It wasn’t like her to really push Holt on things like that. Things had been going _much_ better with her since they'd broken up a few weeks earlier. Not romantic stylez, because there _was_ no romantic stylez, but they’d been pretty friendly. They talked to each other more both in and outside of work, they’d watched some old SVU episodes together a few times at home. They didn’t argue about dinner anymore or any of the other silly things they had frequently found themselves getting mad at each other about. 

So it wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ to be around her, it was just that he was _always_ around her. And yeah, things were _better_, but they still weren’t _great_. They still both knew they were supposed to be feeling differently about each other than they were. They still both had moments where they were annoyed and either argued or left the conversation tense and full of clearly unsaid words. There were still awkward lulls in conversation, uncomfortable moments when they’d be sitting next to each other on the couch. The only light in the room would be coming from the TV, and he’d be stealing glimpses of her face as she laughed at some joke on a talk show. He _didn’t_ like her, not like that, but something about their situation always had him feeling unsure. Those moments always felt too intimate. He felt like he was watching in on someone else’s life, like he was somehow dropped into a moment that he was unprepared for. If he had been watching moments like those unfold on TV, he’d be rooting for his character to stare at her just a second longer. She’d turn and catch him, laughing softly as she asked what he was looking at. He’d look at her a moment longer before leaning over and pulling her into a kiss. 

But this wasn’t TV.

And he wasn’t just some character. 

He couldn’t just do things like that, because his actions had consequences and he didn’t know that he was ready to face consequences for any actions quite like those. He and Amy were finally getting on good terms with one another, and that wasn’t something he was willing to risk over some fleeting, confusing feelings fueled by a single beer and a good segment on the Tonight Show. 

The point was that he could do with some extra time with Charles, or Rosa, or- well, he _wouldn’t_ prefer to spend some time with Hitchcock or Scully over Amy, but he wasn’t around them all the time. He could stand to have a little time away from Amy, some time to clear his head and figure out what to do with his feelings (his current plan of action was to bury them as deep as he could, maybe reassess in a few weeks). 

“Dismissed,” Holt called out, breaking Jake’s concentration on his thoughts. 

Everyone began piling out of the room. Charles turned and clapped his hand on Jake’s back. “You doing okay, buddy? You seem more… jittery than normal.” 

Jake scoffed. “Jittery? I’m not jittery, I’m normal. Nothing different.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “Normally you can make it all the way through the briefing without-”

“Without a tantrum,” Amy added.

Jake rolled his eyes toward Amy. “It wasn’t a tantrum.”

Charles looked between them for a moment. “Okay, I’ll give you two a little _privacy_.”

Jake and Amy both shook their heads in dismissal at Charles’ obvious tone, but they watched him walk out. They still hadn't told anyone on the squad about their new arrangement, and Charles luckily hadn't caught on. She pulled out the chair next to Jake and sat down. “You good?” 

He shrugged. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just could use a distraction. Being locked in a room with you trying to figure out all the specifics of this case isn’t exactly what I was thinking.” 

She hummed in agreement. “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

He raised an eyebrow and turned to look at her. She was studying his face, and he could see the tension in the corner of her lip, which was threatening to pull down. She looked genuine. 

He smiled, but shrugged again. “No, it’s okay. Thank you, though.” 

She smiled at him, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze, a small gesture of comfort. 

“So, we’re going to have to head out there soon if we want to make it promptly. It’s right on the border of our district, so it’s a bit of a drive.”

Jake made some vague sound of understanding. He rubbed his eyes, stifled a yawn, and looked up toward the ceiling. He hadn’t been sleeping too well lately, on account of the dream memory from hell. On the bright side, he was getting much better at falling back asleep after it jerked him out of his REM cycle. 

“Hey, are you _sure_ you’re okay? You’ve seemed so tired lately,” Amy was inspecting him closely as she spoke. 

He waved her off. “I’m fine, I just didn’t get a ton of sleep last night.” She was still looking at him with concern coloring her expression, so he laughed quietly and continued. “You know, they had a Ninja Turtles marathon. I’m gon’sta watch the Turtles.”

She stared at him a moment longer, not quite convinced, but she laughed quietly. “Yeah, you’re gon’sta. I’m gon’sta drive, though.” 

He smiled tightly. “Sounds good to me.” 

\--

They were about twenty minutes into the drive when she couldn’t handle it anymore. “Jake, what’s your deal? You’re being weird.”

“What? I’m not being weird. You’re being weird.” 

“No, _you’re_ being weird. You’ve touched the radio like every twelve seconds. You’re being extra fidgety, even for you.” 

“Sorry, I’ll stop if it’s distracting you.” 

He crossed his arms and looked out the window. Amy sighed quietly. A few moments of silence passed between them before she spoke again. “Did I ever tell you about the time my brothers and I got in a huge fight on a trip to see our grandparents in Long Island?” 

Jake laughed. “Your grandparents lived in Long Island? That’s crazy, my Nana lived there for a while when I was a kid. When my dad left, she moved closer…” He trailed off. 

Amy listened, but decided not to push for more details. He’d share if he wanted to. “Yeah, they had a little house out there. They got a little playset for us and we all used to argue over who got to go on the swings. I think that’s what started the argument in the car.” 

“You have seven brothers, right?” 

Amy laughed. “Yeah. We had one of those giant vans that held all ten of us in the family. And I always got sandwiched between Eli and stupid David. Tony sat in the same row as us, because he was the oldest and he was usually pretty good at breaking up the fights. But I was tougher than the youngest three, and Benji wouldn’t put up with David’s shit, so he always got stuck with the babies and I got stuck up front in the row with the two oldest and _David_.” 

“I’m kind of feeling like you don’t like David.” 

She laughed. “You could say that.” She trailed off for a moment. “I was always my Abuelo’s favorite. His only granddaughter. I always felt out of place and my brothers always got jealous, but _especially_ when it came to Abuelo. They all said I got treated differently, and sometimes they would get a little jealous, but they were still mostly fine. Except David.” 

By now, Jake was practically on the edge of his seat. He was leaned in toward her, listening intently to every word she offered. She smiled at him for a moment. 

“Anyways, on the way up to Long Island once, David started a fight about the stupid swings.” She stopped to mimic his voice. “‘I’m going to go on the swings, and I’m not going to get off the entire day. Not even for dinner.’ And you know, he was thirteen, so I was only, like, nine. Tony smacked him, but he kept pushing. He talked about how he was going to have one of the twins bring his plate out to him and how he would save the swing for Eli, who was laughing along with David throughout the whole thing.” 

“How old was Eli?” Jake interjected.

“Eli was fifteen. He'd do anything to cause more trouble between the rest of us at the time. Benji was eleven, and Tony was seventeen.” 

“Wow, your parents really got that whole ‘every two years’ thing down, huh?” He laughed. 

“Right up until Luke. He were a surprise, and he's four years younger than the twins. But yep, Julian and Mateo are two years younger than me. But anyway, he kept teasing me and I was getting upset. Benji was yelling at David from the back seat, but he didn’t care. Finally, he started mimicking our Abuelo. Calling me 'prin_cesa_,' singing a song he used to sing to me, and he had gotten pretty sick by that point, so he wasn’t really able to sing it anymore. That’s when the fight really broke out.”

“What happened?” 

“I punched David in the face. Gave him a nice black eye, too. But then I was crying because of his teasing, he was crying because I punched him, Tony and Benji and Eli _and_ Luke were all yelling, pulling at me or David, then David hit Eli and Eli hit Mateo and Luke was crying and Tony was trying to calm everybody down, but it was too late and Dad was already pulling the car over and _that_ was never a good sign, so then _everybody_ was yelling, Mom at Dad and Dad at David.” 

Jake’s eyes lit up as he looked at her, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “This is so exciting. What happened next?” 

“Dad said that David could walk the rest of the way if he wanted to start fights in the car.” Amy shrugged. “But Mom said no, David shouldn’t have to walk because _Amelia_ punched him in the face, _she_ started the fight. If anyone’s walking, it’s her. Dad, Tony, and Benji all said that he deserved to be punched, but Mom wouldn’t let up. So I said I would rather walk than be in the car with David, and Benji came with me to walk me to my grandparents’ house.”

“I wish I had siblings,” Jake shook his head. “This all sounds so fun.” 

Amy laughed. “It didn’t feel fun at the time. I will never forget when Benji and I walked in the house. We had been pretty close, so it only took us about ten minutes. The little ones were outside, but our parents and the other three brothers were all sitting in silence in the living room. Mom and Dad didn’t speak to each other for two whole days.”

“But what happened with David?” Jake pressed for more of the story. 

“Nothing, really. Abuelo’s face lit up when I came in, David glared at me across the room. Benji kicked David’s leg when he walked by for being mean to me, which started a whole new series of fights. This one involved more wrestling because there were no seatbelts involved. That’s what a lot of days looked like around that time in the Santiago house.” 

Jake sighed dreamily. “I wish I had brothers. Or even sisters, that would be cool, too.” 

She laughed softly. “Yeah, sometimes it’s pretty cool. I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Except David. I’d trade him for just about anything.” 

“You guys still don’t get along? Even now?” 

Amy scoffed. “That’s an understatement. We’re competitive. I think when it comes down to it, we’d be there for each other _probably_, but normally it’s who can one-up who and _stupid David_ always has the upperhand. Especially with Mom.” 

Jake turned back toward the window, looking out in silence for a moment. Then, so quietly that she almost didn’t catch it, he mumbled, “I don’t see how that could possibly be true.” 

“What?” 

Jake turned to look at her again. “I don’t see how he could have the upperhand. Over _you_.” 

She glanced at him, and a smile crept onto her lips even as she tried to stifle it. He was smiling warmly at her, and he laughed softly at her smile, then turned back to his window. 

The rest of the drive was spent in comfortable silence. Jake wasn’t fidgeting or toying with the radio, but he was humming an unfamiliar song every now and then. She wasn’t exactly thrilled when they were assigned to the case together, something that was happening more and more frequently (Holt’s plan to make them fall in love? The fact that they were actually a pretty good team, as much as both of them denied it?). Everyone still called him the worst second in the precinct, but the more cases she was with him on, the less she felt like that was true. 

He listened to her, and he respected her opinions and decisions even when he didn’t always agree. There were days when he would push his idea, which sometimes _was_ the right call, as much as it annoyed her, but he didn’t just go rogue with her anymore. She knew she could trust him and he had proven that he trusted her just as much. Yeah, she loved working with Rosa and she didn’t mind being paired with Charles, but whether she would ever admit it or not, she kind of _liked_ being Jake’s partner. He was still immature and joked about everything, but on their cases together, she had seen so much more of him. 

He was strong. Once they burst into a room together on a call they just happened to be in the area of and she watched as he lifted a steel door off of a child’s leg before she even had a chance to register the scene in front of her. He was fast-thinking, always planning and adjusting his plans at the drop of a hat. He didn’t always take the time to think through the consequences of all of his actions, but he always knew what to do and what to act on in the moment. And yeah, that used to irritate her more when she didn’t see him in those moments when he had no choice but to make those decisions, but now that she had more insight, she _trusted_ him. She was willing to help walk back the mistakes that he made when that became necessary. 

It was becoming necessary less and less often. He was willing to let her in, to share some of his plans and listen to her feedback and suggestions when they didn’t have to act so quickly. A lot of their plans, even the quick ones they made on the fly, were made _together_. They’d gotten better at reading each other and communicating through body language so that even when they were creeping through a dark warehouse together, they were able to agree or tell the other when they thought a different route would be better. 

He was resilient. When he’d caught a glimpse of something she could tell set him off, but he’d clench his jaw and move on. He’d smile at her, gentle as always, and crack another joke. Or when they’d walk out of a gruesome crime scene and her heart would be in her stomach, both of them walking on shaky knees to the car. He wouldn’t joke, he’d just _be there_. When she needed to talk about it, he would. After a particularly terrible case, he’d pulled her into a hug wordlessly as they got to the car. She was tense for a moment, but she relaxed into his arms. They held each other outside of the horror scene they’d just left, and it didn’t feel forced or fake or wrong, it felt like _friendship_. After a few minutes, he’d pulled out of the hug, keeping his hands on her arms as he looked at her. _”You okay?”_ She had nodded solemnly, and he cleared his throat as he rubbed his hands on her shoulders momentarily. _”Alright, let’s get out of here.”_

He was kind. To her, to others. Victim’s families and friends, people they passed in the street, servers when they’d grab lunch together on a busy day. She admired that about him. She admired more things about him as each day passed. She was proud to be his partner, even when she sometimes hoped to be partnered with another one of their friends. She was proud to be his friend. 

That’s what they were. Now, more than any time she could remember, they were friends. It was working perfectly for them. It occurred to her that perhaps they’d just gotten it wrong the first time around. Maybe they _weren’t_ meant to be together. They were great at being friends. Maybe that’s all they were meant to be. Their arguments happened less frequently, and even when they _did_ happen, they were much less serious than before. She’d learned to absorb his jokes with a smile, sometimes even joking along. He’d learned to anticipate her idiosyncrasies, and he was even offering her solutions to problems she hadn’t even voiced yet. He knew her quirks and he was thinking of them when he’d make those quick plans of his. 

Friends was perfect. They were learning more about each other, and the more she thought about it, the more she was sure that she’d love for her and Jake to be friends for the rest of their lives. 

So why _exactly_ was it bothering her so much now to watch him flirt with a witness on the case they were on? She tried not to roll her eyes as the pretty girl in front of Jake twisted her blonde hair around her fingers, even as she talked about how she stumbled upon an amputated arm in the woods while she walked her dog. 

“Sorry, for the record, let me just verify some details,” Amy interrupted. Jake shot her a confused glance as she outlined some of the grosser details of the scene that the woman had found. The woman made a face, but nodded. “Wow, that must have been pretty scary.” 

She nodded, frowning briefly, before shrugging her shoulders. “I feel a lot safer knowing there are cops like you,” she turned pointedly toward Jake, reaching out and squeezing his bicep, “out there stopping people like this.” 

Jake smiled. “Catch bad guys and look good doing it, that’s how we do it.” He added a little shrug at the end. 

The woman giggled one of those stupid little laughs meant to go that extra mile and _really_ let a guy know that you think he’s _so_ funny. Jake _was_ so funny, but that wasn’t even a good joke. 

“You definitely have the last part covered,” the woman batted her eyes at him and flashed a smile. 

Amy made a disgusted sound at the back of her throat, catching Jake’s attention. He looked at her questioningly. 

“Alright, _Detective Peralta_, we have a murder to solve, here.” 

She smiled tightly at the witness and turned in the other direction. Jake quickly thanked the woman, then turned to follow Amy. “Hey, what was that?” 

Amy barely glanced in his direction as she continued walking toward the scene. “What was what?” 

“Are you like… jealous?” 

Amy scoffed. “Jealous? Why would I be jealous?” 

Jake was quiet for a moment. He walked alongside her until she stopped, turning to look at him seriously. “I don’t know. That’s just how it seemed.” 

“I’m not jealous. I mean, I don’t think you should be flirting with a witness in the middle of an investigation, but-”

“Hey, I wasn’t flirting with her, she was flirting with _me_. I can’t help it if I’m irresistible, Santiago.” 

Amy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well you weren’t really doing much to stop her, were you?”

Jake laughed quietly. “Relax, Amy. She’s not even my type.” 

She sighed. “I _am_ relaxed. I don’t care if you flirt with people. I care if you flirt with people at _work_.” 

“Which, by the way, I wasn’t doing.” 

She ignored him as she walked away to _actually_ do her job, and she ignored his stupid laugh, too. 

As they were preparing to leave the crime scene, a few new bits of evidence to go compare with Rosa and Charles from their scene, the witness made her way back to Jake. 

“Hey, Detective…” 

“Peralta,” he finished. 

She smiled. “Peralta, of course. I was wondering if maybe I could,” she paused, twisting her hair around her fingers again and tilting her head to the side, “get your number or something.”

He smiled at her, eyes flickering toward Amy, who quickly glanced away like she hadn’t been paying attention. 

“You’re a witness on an open investigation,” he began, scratching at the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I’d love to, but that’s a bit of a conflict of interest. To the case, you know.” 

She nodded. “But I mean, what about _after_ the investigation? Maybe I could give you my number?” 

“Uhhhh,” Jake began, voice a pitch higher than it had been previously. 

“Peralta, we should probably leave so we can make it home before dinner time,” Amy prompted from a distance. 

Jake stared at her for a moment, then turned back to the woman. “Sorry, my _wife_.” 

The woman made a face at him and shook her head. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“Detective Santiago,” Jake continued. “She’s my wife.” 

“Jake-” Amy began. _That_ wasn’t what she meant. 

“Oh my god, I’m _so_ sorry,” the woman began, turning toward Amy to offer an apology. “I didn’t see a ring, so I thought-”

“It’s complicated,” Jake offered. 

“Oh?” The woman turned back toward him, a sliver of hope apparent in her voice. 

“Jake, let’s _go_.” 

“Yes, _darling_,” he replied, clearly trying not to smirk when he turned to face her. She rolled her eyes and thanked the witness a final time before joining him in the car. 

“What was _that_?” Amy asked as soon as her door was shut. 

“What was _what_?” He replied. She smacked him lightly on the arm. “Ouch, o_kay_.” 

She pulled away from the scene, but turned to look at Jake when he didn’t continue. “So?” 

“So, I don’t know, you offered that line about us going home for dinner-”

“I _meant_ dinner in general, not us having dinner together at home. You looked uncomfortable and I was trying to give you an out.” She shook her head at him as if that had been obvious. 

“Okay, well _excuse_ me for not knowing, considering we _do_ have dinner together at home practically every night. I didn’t get her number, I didn’t want you to be-”

“I _wasn’t_ jealous,” Amy interrupted. 

“I was _going_ to say I didn’t want you to be _mad_, that I wasn’t taking the job seriously, but whatever you say…” He laughed quietly. 

“This isn’t funny. I’m not jealous.”

Her tone had him quiet for a few moments, looking out his window and, she hoped, thinking about other things to talk about. He sighed. 

“Listen, it’s just that we never _talked_ about this, ya’know?” 

She glanced over at him. He was picking at a string on his sleeve, not returning her gaze. “Talked about what?”

“Dating. Flirting- ya’know, any of it. We talked about breaking up, but we never talked about what to do if…” 

“If a witness flirts with you in the middle of an investigation?” 

He laughed. “If a person flirts with me whenever. Or with you. Are you… Are we?”

It got quiet again, but this time she definitely wouldn’t have called the silence _comfortable_. She took a deep breath. “I mean, I don’t know, Jake. If you want to date somebody, I think you should be able to.” 

He made a quiet humming sound, but didn’t say anything. 

“What do you think?” 

He didn’t say anything for a moment, and when she looked up at him, he was already looking at her. He shrugged. “I want us to be happy.” He shrugged again, looking away. “We’ve been getting along better.” 

“Yeah,” she agreed. “So do you think we should keep doing this? Just friends?” 

He sounded hesitant when he spoke. “I mean, it seems to be working…” 

“But?” 

He shrugged again. “I don’t know. You know, I’ve mentioned my parents being divorced…” She was quiet, but kept stealing glances at him. “I was hoping maybe I wouldn’t turn out like my dad.” 

“Hey,” she interrupted quietly. “You’re not like your dad.” When she looked back at him, he was staring out the window. “This isn’t the same as what happened with them.” 

“He left when things got hard.” 

“...Title of his sex tape?” 

Jake snapped his head toward her, a huge grin on his face. He laughed, but choked out a quiet “_No_!” in the middle. He shook his head. “C’mon, Ames, that’s gross. That’s my _dad_.” 

She smiled at him as his laughter faded. “But seriously, Jake. This is a situation we never could have predicted. And if we have to start over… It’s not your fault. It doesn’t make you a bad husband, or a bad person. We’re just two people who got thrown into an unimaginable situation.” 

He hummed quietly again. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

There was silence again, and Jake only touched at the buttons on the radio a few times. 

“Hey, thank you,” he said softly. 

They shared a brief look. “That’s what friends are for, Jake.” 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmm does anybody know where this is going? muahaha


	6. I Hope You Notice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title from Jason Mraz's I'm Coming Over. 
> 
> _Oh, I hope you notice_   
_That I, I'm still in love with you_   
_Yes I_   
_I'm coming over tonight_   
_I'm coming over tonight_   
_I hope you notice I was never over you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been finished since the last one was posted, but something felt off about it so I've spent that time trying to figure out what the problem was lmao. I decided that most of the problem is there's a second half of this chapter that felt rushed and weird when it was left here, but I think feels better and makes more sense when it's separated into a different chapter. 
> 
> I apologize for all the slow updates to my current works. I have a ton going on in my personal life and things have been lowkey rough but it'll be fine ¨̮ ¨̮ ¨̮ ¨̮ 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!

He had been watching. 

He wasn’t sure if she knew that. He suspected that she didn’t. But he noticed her, even when she tried her best to not be noticed at all. He noticed her in the morning as they made their way around their shared living space. He noticed the way that she tested her coffee to make sure that it wasn’t too hot before she took a real sip. 

He noticed her on the way to work, whether they were walking or driving. He’d notice the way she’d tap her fingers on the steering wheel or the way she’d close her eyes and lean her head back in the passenger seat. When they walked, he’d watch as she glanced at the bodega sign as they approached. He could anticipate the days she’d go in based on those glances. 

Sometimes he’d volunteer the idea, like he hadn’t known she was going to suggest it. Under the guise of “wanting to stop for a bagel,” they’d duck in together, but Jake _watched_. He noticed when the owner discreetly set a pack of cigarettes next to the register, noticed again when he slid them into her bag. He knew that the only reason for those bodega stops was the secret cigarette exchange that went on, and he averted his eyes and pretended he never saw anything. 

He noticed her during briefings. He tried to look ahead, but his eyes were drawn in her direction, no matter where she was sitting. He paid attention, mostly, but he’d catch her movements from the corner of his eye, then he’d have to watch closer, an investigation into what caused her to shift in her seat like that or touch her hair like that or lean on the desk in front of her like that? 

He noticed her when they worked cases together. He saw the way her eyes took in a million things at once, the same way that his did. The way she held her gun, finger hovering near the trigger, shoulders squared as she scanned the premise. He noticed the way she was watching his back, the same way he was watching hers. He noted her voice, even and steady as she recited Miranda rights, even after they’d chased a perp for two miles and he was out of breath. 

He noticed her at home. He always smiled at the way she bit her lip when she couldn’t figure out the answer on a crossword. A few times, she’d even asked him if he had any idea about a certain question. He noticed when she’d smile at the same commercial every time it came on, noticed when she’d groan quietly as she stared into the fridge because she _couldn’t decide what she wanted_, noticed when she always decided on some fruit or vegetable as a snack, regardless of how many times he proposed a more satisfying snack (potato chips, something fried, _oh, c’mon, not carrots!_). 

That’s what made it so easy for him to figure out that something was bothering her. Not just kind of bothering her, but _really_ bothering her. Bothering her enough that she was extra short with him when he rolled out of bed a few minutes late, like always. Bothering her enough that they had stopped at the bodega three days in a row, which he knew meant she was on her _third_ pack of cigarettes in three days. He watched as she was distracted through briefings, distracted through cases, and even as she completely avoided her crossword puzzle at home. _Three days in a row._

The real problem happened on Thursday. Fourth day in a row that they stopped at the bodega. Fourth day in a row where she didn’t appear to be herself, couldn’t stay focused during the briefing. Rosa nudged her with an elbow and questioned her separately, Jake was sure about the same things he had been noticing. But during their investigation on an ongoing case? Things _really_ fell apart. 

“Ames, get down!” 

She followed his directive _just_ fast enough that she missed the bullet that was coming straight for her. His ears were ringing from the gunshot, but things were happening so quickly that he couldn’t stop moving forward. Amy was on the ground in front of him, their perp still standing about six feet away with a weapon aimed directly at him. 

“Drop your weapon! I said drop your-” A second gunshot rang through the building, echoing off of the four walls. 

“Man what the fuck!” The perp yelled, dropping to the ground and clutching at his shoulder. He continued yelling unintelligibly. “You shot me!”

“You shot at us first!” Jake yelled back. 

“Stop leveling with the criminals,” Amy scolded. She hopped into action the second the man fell to the ground. 

He turned on her as she kicked the man’s gun away from him. “_Me_? What about _you_? I know you’ve been going through something lately but _what was that_?” 

“10-10, shots fired at the abandoned warehouse on Fifth and Franklin, 10-54 to the scene for the perp,” she spoke into the radio, ignoring Jake’s questioning. 

“Hey, are you okay? Come here-”

“I’m fine,” she said sternly, still leaning over the perp to assess the wound. “Make sure there’s nobody else here.” 

He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head and began his sweep of the rest of the building. By the time he made his way back to her, sure that there was nobody else there with them, she had the man cuffed and leaning against the wall. She was already half way through his rights, voice holding the same clear, steady quality that it usually held when she said them. 

They didn’t speak again through the rest of the commotion. Ambulances came, a paramedic checked both Jake and Amy while the rest of them worked with perp. The rest of the squad converged on their area, from the locations around the warehouse that they had been staking out. They had to explain everything to Holt separately and turn in their guns and bodycams, protocol after discharging a firearm, even in non-fatal cases. They’d both be off work for a few days until the investigation was complete. 

When they finally made it to the car, the air was thick between them. He didn’t even bother glancing over at her because _what was the point?_ He knew what would happen. She’d hiss something at him about _being fine_, even though he knew it wasn’t true because he’d _noticed_, he’d been paying attention to her. 

He wouldn’t get any answers, he’d just get an attitude himself, then he’d go home with her and watch her not do her crossword, watch that stupid commercial come on and not hear her soft laughter. He’d worry until he made it into his room, face buried in the pillow until he could finally fight off those intrusive thoughts, then he’d wake up alone two hours later, gasping from that stupid ass dream. 

So why look at her? Why see what he was sure he would see if he turned his head? Amy, shoulders squared the same way they were when she held her gun. Her hands would be wrapped tight around the wheel, ten and two because _that’s the safest way_. She wouldn’t look at him even when he allowed his eyes to stray over her features for too long, and if she did, she’d just ask what he was looking at. 

And it’s not like he would come clean. He wouldn’t tell her everything he saw when he looked at her, everything he’d been noticing for the past few weeks. It was better to not look at all, to not say anything at all. 

What Jake _didn’t_ know was that he was wrong. Amy glanced at him from the driver’s seat, but he was fixated out his window, thinking through every scenario he could imagine, but all of them ended the same way. 

Her voice tore him out of his thoughts. 

“Thank you.” 

His eyebrows drew together, but he didn’t say anything. 

Her voice was softer when she spoke again. “Jake, if you hadn’t been there…” She trailed off, and he could imagine what she was doing in her silence. She was probably rubbing at her temples, shaking her head slightly the same way he was doing. “So thank you.” 

He clenched his jaw tighter. He couldn’t do this. Not right now. He couldn’t turn and look at her and _talk_ about this. Talk about _what_ even? How he just watched her almost get shot in front of him? How he wasn’t sure how that made him feel, but he’d been in similar situations dozens of times with different partners and never felt quite the way he was feeling right now? How he knew something had been bothering her, but he elected to do nothing about that beforehand? And what if he hadn't acted so quickly? 

She sighed quietly, and he continued to dwell on his thoughts, glaring out the window. 

When she pulled up in front of the apartment, he was quick to unbuckle his seatbelt, almost even quicker to swing his door open. But when he moved to step out of the car, he froze. He could hear that Amy still hadn’t moved on her side of the car. He shook his head and pulled his foot back in the car, shutting the door once again. 

He still hadn’t looked at her. The sigh that left his body was heavy, and for a brief second, Captain Holt flashed through his mind. He’d been on the other side of disappointed sighs like that all too often, lately. He had so many things he could say to her, and his mind was sifting through all of the many options when his voice got away from him altogether. 

“I know about the cigarettes.” 

Her voice wavered for a moment before she replied. “What?” 

He finally turned to look at her. Her eyebrows were pulled together, a little crease between them. 

“I know about the cigarettes. I noticed… I’ve just been noticing things. I know that the bodega means cigarettes. And we’ve stopped there every day this week. I know something’s going on with you and-”

“Jake-”

“No,” he held his hand up momentarily, “please, let me finish. I know something’s been going on, and I don’t want you to feel like you can’t… I don’t know, talk about it, or whatever.” He rubbed his forehead. “Ya’know, this is a dangerous job, obviously. And you have to be at the top of your game. And you _weren’t_ today.” 

He looked down at his lap. He could feel himself getting emotional, and he shook his head, trying to dispel some of the emotion that was quickly building in his chest. “You can’t… Ames, you can’t just do that. What if you-” 

He stopped talking when she reached over and grabbed his hand. He looked down at their hands, then lifted his head back up to look at her questioningly. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, holding his eye contact. 

He nodded. “It’s fine. It’s not… You just need to take care of yourself. You’re important to the precinct. You know, even if you’re not back up to it yet, you’re still a sergeant. They need you.” 

She hummed in understanding. “The precinct.” 

He clenched his jaw tighter, looking down at their hands again. Her fingers were curled around his, and his thumb rested on top of her fingers, but he wouldn’t dare move it to rub little circles, even though he wanted to. 

He had been so sure. He meant what he was saying, and his voice was behind him all the way to back him up. He was speaking clearly, his voice strong even when the words failed him and he trailed off into silence. He could hear the resistance in her voice when she repeated his words. _The precinct._ He knew what she was looking for, what she was wondering about, but was she _hoping_ for it? He hoped she was hoping for it, and that made him shake his head all over again. 

They were _good_ as friends. That was the decision they had made together, and it was the decision they had discussed being a good choice. But he could still feel this way even just as friends. This feeling wasn’t reserved for romantic love. He wouldn’t want to watch Rosa or Charles in the same situation they had been in, but the simple fact was that his friendship with Amy was _different_. That’s what left him feeling empty and shaky as he walked to the car. The thought of losing her was _different_, but he still wasn’t sure exactly why. 

He took a deep breath. “You’re important… to _me_.”

She looked up at him, eyes searching his face. He shrugged, trying again to be nonchalant. 

“Just, ya’know… You’re the only one who understands everything. Everybody else… I catch them looking at me, even Rosa, and they’re disappointed or they’re sad or they don’t know what to say. But you…” 

“With you, it’s just us,” she finished quietly. She squeezed his hand a little tighter. “I know what you mean. I feel the same way.” 

They continued looking at each other, hands connected until Jake slipped up and let his thumb stray over the top of her knuckles. They both looked down at their hands, and he immediately let go. He cleared his throat. 

“Glad we, uh… Got that cleared up.” He attempted to smile, but he could feel that it didn’t come off quite as enthusiastically as he had planned. 

“Yeah. I’ve had a lot on my mind, but I’ll have it all figured out before we go back to work.” She smiled tightly at him. 

He nodded. “Great. I can’t keep pulling this team forever, Santiago.” 

She rolled her eyes at him, but she laughed. “Yeah, whatever.” 

He watched, a gentle smile on his lips as she left the car and made her way to the door. Once again, he shook his head, but the smile didn’t shake away as he followed her to the door. 

That night, she kicked him from across the couch. “I can’t figure this one out. It sounds exactly up your alley.” 

He turned to look at her, but she was glaring in frustration down at the crossword. His stupid smile was back, and he was biting his lip to try and hide it. “What’s the clue?” 

“Like the ninja turtles?” 

He scooched closer to her, leaning over her shoulder to look at the boxes. Before he located which number they were on, he began speaking. “Teenage? Mutant?” 

“_Mutant!_ Oh my god, Jake!” 

He laughed, leaning on her a little as he did. “That was so _easy!_ It’s literally in the name!

“Shut up, _Pineapples!_”

He laughed, about to reach over and pull the crossword out of her hands to tease her about how he was the crossword master, when it dawned on him. “What did you call me?”

“Uhm… Pineapples?” 

“Why did you call me that?” 

He had backed away from her, now facing her a few feet away on the couch. She set the crossword down and returned his gaze. “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “It was just… in my head, I guess. I’m sorry if it bothered you, I won’t-”

“No, no, Ames. That’s what my grandma used to call me. That’s… Did I tell you that?” 

“Oh my god… Do you think that’s a memory?” She leaned in toward him excitedly. “Did I have a memory?”

“I think you had a memory! We have to celebrate! How do you celebrate when you remember a memory? Should we eat pineapple?”

Amy shrugged. “Maybe we should watch Die Hard.” 

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you serious? _You_ want to watch _Die Hard?_” 

She shrugged again. “I mean, you kind of may have saved my life… You’ve been trying to get me to watch the movie since the day we came home from the hospital. Why not?” 

He was beaming at her for all of twelve seconds before he was running around, locating Die Hard in the stack of movies and popping it into the DVD player before she changed her mind. He disappeared into her bedroom, then made a stop in the kitchen, laughing quietly when Amy asked him what he was doing from the other room.

When he returned, her favorite fuzzy blanket wrapped around his shoulders, a bag of nuts in one hand and a two liter of orange soda in the other, she couldn’t help but laugh at his goofy smile. 

“If we’re having a movie night, we’re gon’sta do it right.” 

She laughed. “You’re such a dork.” 

He gasped dramatically, the hand grasping the bag of nuts flying to his chest. “Could a dork quote this entire movie front to back?” 

“Yes.” He gasped again, and she tossed a throw pillow at him. “Just come sit down.” 

He flicked off the lights on his way to the couch, setting down the snacks and adjusting the blanket on her lap before getting under the blanket a few feet away from her. He leaned over and grabbed the bag of peanuts. 

“I know it’s not _carrots_, but nuts are healthy, they’re like 0% fat.” He flashed her a smile, then tossed one into his mouth. 

She made a face at him. “What? Jake, that’s not true. It’s actually the opposite.”

He shrugged. “Better than carrots.” He laughed, tossing another nut in his mouth. 

“Throw me one,” she gestured to the bag. 

He raised his eyebrows at her, but tossed a nut in her direction. She moved to catch it, but completely missed, causing them both to laugh. 

They watched the movie, laughing and joking and throwing peanuts at each other the whole time. Amy smiled proudly when she realized that _the key is volume_, peanuts raining down on the blanket between them as she caught a very small percentage of them. She made a face when Jake offered her a drink of orange soda straight from the bottle, but she didn’t push him to get glasses, she just rolled her eyes and took a sip. 

She noticed when he yawned for the fifth time, part way through the movie. So when he laid across the couch, his head barely leaning on the side of her thigh, she didn’t say anything. By the end of the movie, he was snuggled all the way into her lap, an arm wrapped loosely around her waist as he snored quietly. She tried to move without disturbing him too much, but he groaned quietly in his sleep, arm tightening around her waist. 

So she shut off the movie when it ended. She pulled the other blanket off the back of the couch, spreading it over him because he’d slipped out of the other blanket when he sleepily laid down. She reclined the seat slowly, trying her best not to further disturb him, and when she let her hands fall to her side, she comfortably settled into him. Her fingers hesitantly carded through his hair, and she smiled at the quick lapse in his breathing before he exhaled softly. 

This wasn’t a memory, but it sure felt like one.


	7. You Were All I've Ever Known

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title from PATD's Memories. 
> 
> _Oh memories,_   
_Where'd you go?_   
_You were all I've ever known._   
_How I miss yesterday,_   
_And how I let it fade away._   
_Where'd you go?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh there's some ensuing cuteness and fluff in here I feel like but also- you're going to hate this lmao. 
> 
> HAVE FUN!

He twisted his head toward the feeling, sighing happily at the sensation. His head was in her lap, he knew, and those were her fingers gently raking through his hair. He didn’t remember laying down, didn’t remember curling up in her lap like some kind of cat, but he could tell that’s where he was by his hand, pressed comfortably against her hip where his arm wrapped around her waist, and the soft blanket pillowing his face. He must have fallen asleep for the end of the movie, because he didn’t hear it playing in the background. 

He _never_ fell asleep during Die Hard. He’d seen it hundreds of times, and he couldn’t recall a single time that he had fallen asleep during it. He had just been so _tired_. It was really nice that she didn’t wake him up. It’s not like she had to let him sleep in her lap. 

He opened his eyes, intent on stretching and making his way to bed, when he was startled by the light in the room. He pushed himself off of her lap abruptly, looking between the windows as if one of them had thrown something at him. Amy jumped, startled by his frantic movements. She gave him a weird look. 

“Is it morning?” He asked stupidly, rubbing and blinking through narrowed eyes. 

She blinked slowly at him and looked at the window. “Yeah?” 

“I slept through the night?” 

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Yeah? Have you not been?” She continued staring at him as he scratched his head. “Jake, are you okay?” 

He shook his head like he hadn’t been listening to her speaking. “I’m… uh, yeah. What’s… Did we sleep here?” 

Amy nodded. “Yeah, you fell asleep near the middle of the movie, but don’t worry, I finished it.”

“And you… just let me sleep here? In your lap?” 

She shrugged, suddenly avoiding his eyes. “You seemed really tired, I didn’t want to disturb you.” She looked back up at him. “I figured you’d do the same for me. I was just being a good friend.” 

_Friend_. He nodded, raising an eyebrow when she began laughing quietly. “What?” 

She leaned closer to him, and he tried to ignore the weird little jumpy thing his heart did as she reached up to touch his face. He could feel his face burning as she pulled her hand back away, a peanut that had been stuck to his cheek between her thumb and forefinger. 

“It must have been on the blanket. I thought I got all of them last night.” She laughed again, looking down at the nut. 

He reached over and took the nut, popping it in his mouth before he could register the strange look she was giving him. “Breakfast,” he mumbled quietly, pushing off of the couch and stretching. “I can’t believe I slept through the night. On the couch, I mean.” 

He made his way to the kitchen and began poking at the buttons on the coffee maker. Amy was usually the one to make coffee, so it took him a minute to figure out how it worked. He turned to find her watching him from the other side of the counter. 

“Jesus- _Fuck_, Ames.” He shook his head. “You can’t just jump out at me like that.” 

“Jump out at you? I’m just standing here.”

“Yeah but you came over there so _quiet_, jeez.” He sighed, turning back around to poke at the coffee machine. “God, how long does this thing take?” 

“It’s only been like thirty seconds, Jake. Are you sure you’re okay? You seem a little jumpy.”

He shook his head. “I’m not jumpy, I’m fine.” 

“You know, I think Charles was right before, when he said you were fidgety? You’ve been weird lately.” 

“What? I’m not weird, you’re weird.” He turned slowly to look at her, his face signifying that he realized that that was _obviously_ weird. He sighed. “I don’t know, I’ve just been thinking a lot lately.” 

“Anything specific?” 

He shrugged. “Just if this was a mistake.” 

She turned toward him questioningly. “This? As in… with us?” 

_Yes_. That’s what he wanted to say. _Yes,_ as in us. As in _just friends_, when he’d seen the pictures and noticed her and felt confusing feelings that didn’t feel right for just friends, but didn’t feel right for being married, either. 

“No, not us, exactly… I don’t know, does this feel right to you? Does it feel okay being just friends when I live here?” 

She looked away from him and made her way to the coffee machine, pressing the button that Jake hadn’t hit. “I mean, it doesn’t bother me… Does it feel right to you?” 

He turned around, hopping up onto the counter the way that he had on their first night home. “I guess none of this feels right to me. But I’ve never had to do anything like this before, so…” They looked at each other for a moment before he smiled brightly at her. “So? Remember anything else while you were sleeping?” 

She groaned, leaning on the counter next to him. “No. But I was thinking,” she looked up at him mischievously, “maybe if I start calling you Pineapples all the time, it’ll help bring back some memories.” 

“I don’t know if _that’s_ necessary.” 

“Whatever you say, Pineapples.” 

He rolled his eyes and playfully shoved her to the side. She laughed, smacking his hand away. 

“I have a doctor’s appointment later,” she continued, pulling two mugs out of a cabinet and setting them down next to him. “I figured I could stop and grab something for dinner on the way back.” 

“No,” he interrupted. “Let me cover dinner tonight.” 

She looked at him curiously. “You’re going to cover dinner tonight?” She laughed. “So pizza pockets?” 

“What? No-”

“Pizza bagels?”

“Ames-”

“Pizza _rolls?_” 

“No-”

“Pizza-”

“Not pizza, Ames.” He paused to laugh and shake his head at her. “I’ve got it covered, okay? Just trust me.” 

She raised her eyebrows, taking time to inspect his face before she nodded. “Trust you…” She smiled at him, then shrugged. “Yeah, okay.” 

They each got ready for their days, then went their separate ways. Jake headed toward the grocery store, a recipe on his phone so he knew all the ingredients he needed to make the perfect meal. She may not have been ready to share anything, but he could still tell that something was bothering her. He hoped she was right about having it all figured out before they went back to work in a few days, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to try and have a part in her getting past whatever was on her mind. 

He debated leaving at the same time as her. He didn’t think he would need all that time to buy a few groceries, but it turned out that some of the ingredients were not as common as he had thought they’d be, so he found himself going into stores he’d never been to before. Then he didn’t know where anything was in the store, so he’d spend an hour traipsing through all the aisles, picking up random items and ultimately putting half of them back before he finally had everything he was pretty sure he would need.

It turned out that cooking was even harder than navigating the grocery store. 

He had a timer on the stove and a timer on his phone but _which timer was for which thing again?_ It turned out that the flour he spilled on the counter was more difficult to clean up than he thought, and when he tried to wipe it up with water it turned into a sort of paste that caked itself across the entire counter that he’d wiped with the same cloth. So then he poured dish soap across the whole counter, but by the time he got the flour off he had soapy little bubbles covering everything and one of the timers was going off but _was it for the potato pancakes or the pierogies?_

He managed to clean the counter without burning either the pierogies or the potato pancakes, which were now in the oven at a lower temperature so they’d stay warm. The grill, he found after one minor mishap where the flames rose much higher than he wanted, wasn’t quite as difficult for him to figure out. 

He was feeling pretty proud of himself as he arranged the salad _just right_ in a bowl, the way he’d seen someone on Chopped do. The entire house smelled like some combination of all the food he had made, and he couldn’t wait for her to get home and see all of it. She thought he was just going to make _pizza pockets_. 

He was slicing the chicken to lay on top of the salad when her voice came from behind him. 

“Jake? It smells so good in here-”

“_Fuck_, ow-”

“Oh my god, are you-”

Jake looked down, already pinching the cut, but his blood was all over the chicken that he was cutting. When she spoke, she had startled him, and he turned in the middle of slicing. He had a nice sized cut on his palm, and the blood was pouring out of his closed fist. He sucked in a sharp breath, eyebrows pulled together as he looked at her. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she apologized as she came toward him, reaching out to take his hands. He pulled them away. 

“No, don’t, I’m bleeding.”

“Jake, let me see it.” 

He stared at her for a second, then hesitantly reached his hands forward and opened his palm. She held his hand in both of hers, then pulled him gently to the sink to run some water on it. He made a quiet sound of discomfort, and she looked at him apologetically before she moved in to inspect the cut better. 

“I don’t think you need stitches,” she moved in closer, moving his hand in different ways to confirm that idea. “C’mon, let’s get you to the bathroom and get it all cleaned up. There’s a first aid kit in there.”

“But what about-”

“Jake, c’mon. We have to keep the cut clean so it doesn’t get infected.” 

He whined, but went along with her when she pulled him toward the bathroom. 

“Here, sit down,” she gestured to the edge of the bathtub, and he sat there, eyebrows already furrowed at whatever experience he was about to endure. She rummaged through the closet in the corner, turning up with a little blue first aid kit and a brown plastic bottle that Jake immediately recognized. 

“You’re not putting that on me.” 

She glanced down at the bottle, then looked back up at him. “We have to clean the cut,” she said softly. “It’s only going to hurt for a second.” 

Jake shook his head. “It’s not going to hurt for a second because we’re not going to put it on there.” 

“She sat down next to him, opening the first aid kit and pulling out a little packaged, sterilized cloth. “Here, hold this on the cut and keep pressure on it while I get this ready.”

“Amy, no-”

She set everything down and turned, placing the cloth on his palm and closing her fingers over the wound without squeezing too hard. She held his hand in hers, looking up at him seriously until he visibly swallowed, nodded his head, and replaced her hands with his. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly as she pulled the kit back into her lap. She pulled out some wrap bandage, some gauze, and a cotton pad. She opened the bottle of alcohol, opened the cotton pad, and poured some onto it. “Okay, come here.” 

When she looked up at him, his eyebrows were pulled together again. He was cradling his hand close to his body and looking at her as if she had just threatened to stab him. 

“Jake, c’mon. Trust me.” 

His eyes searched her face for a moment, then he slowly moved his hand toward her. He lifted the cloth, and she took his hand, beginning to move in with the rubbing alcohol. He winced and pulled away before she even got close. 

“Jake-” She sighed. “Hey, it’s not going to be that bad, okay? I promise. Let me see.” He was visibly tense as he leaned his hand back toward her, and she noticed him trying to look away. This time, when she got his hand pretty close to her, she leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek as she met the cut with the alcohol. 

He took in a sharp breath at the burning on his cut, but then looked at her, surprised. “What are you…?” He asked, eyes searching her face again. She could feel the heat rising on her own cheeks, but she felt a little better when she noted a tiny hint of pink on his face, which had been pretty pale from the sight of his own blood. He looked down at his lap, a hint of a smile on his lips. 

She pulled out an antibiotic ointment and began applying that to his hand, avoiding his eyes. “It was a distraction. Did it work?” She didn’t look up at him when he didn’t say anything, and within another minute or two, she had the cut all bandaged up. “See. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

When she looked back up at him, his hand still in hers, he was smiling. “No, it wasn’t bad at all.” 

They were still looking at each other, the silence between them comfortable and familiar, when the fire alarm began blaring into the room. 

“Fuck, the oven-” Jake whispered as he shook his head, pulling his hand out of hers and running back to the kitchen. She followed him. 

There was a little bit of smoke coming out of the oven. He quickly shut it off and opened it up, choking on the smoke that billowed out and reaching in with a potholder to pull out two pans of burnt food. He set them on the stove dejectedly, then turned around to fan the smoke away from the alarm, which was still screeching throughout the room. 

Once the alarm finally quieted, he turned toward Amy. He looked around the room, his blood looking like dressing on the chicken he had been cutting, and two pans of crispy, burnt pierogies and potato pancakes, and he shook his head. “I guess this is what you get for trusting me with dinner, huh?” 

“Are those potato pancakes? And pierogies?” 

He scoffed quietly. “They _were_.” He leaned over and picked up a potato pancake. It was black and crispy on the edges, and when he broke it in half, it made a loud, snapping sound. “Now they’re just burnt. I’m sorry, Ames. I tried-”

“Hey,” she made her way closer to him. “I’m sure they’re not that bad.”

She reached forward and grabbed one, ignoring Jake’s protests as she took a big bite of one. She worked on choking down the bite while Jake worked on _not_ choking on his laughter at the faces she made at it. 

“_I’m_ not going to try it. Not after _that_ face.” 

She smacked him on the arm, her jaw dropping dramatically, but she quickly composed herself when he responded just as dramatically. He winced and leaned forward, clutching his bandaged hand close to him again. She thought for a second that she may have accidentally hit his hand when he looked up at her, smile spreading across his face. 

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head dismissively at him. “You’re such a butthead.” 

He stared up at her from where he was still leaned down. He kept his serious gaze on her face as he stood back up straight until she finally asked him, “_What?_” 

“I can’t believe you would call me a butthead. That’s so harsh.” 

She laughed, shaking her head all over again. “Shut up.”

She turned and looked around the kitchen, trying to decide what to clean up first. When she turned back toward Jake, she found him frowning at the scene around them. 

“Hey, you wanna go out for dinner tonight? My treat?”

He looked at her suspiciously, then gestured to his hand. “I mean, I feel like it’s the _least_ you could do, what with you scaring me and making me cut my hand.” 

She rolled her eyes. “I told you you’ve been jumpy.” 

“I told you to stop sneaking up on me,” he replied in a sing-song voice. “You’re drivinnnnng.” 

She shook her head at him again, but she was smiling at his childishness. “Come on before I change my mind.” 

They teased each other all the way to the place that Amy _swore_ had the best pizza in New York. “_Pizza?_” He’d said. “_If you wanted pizza all you had to do was ask, you didn’t have to suggest all those pizza things earlier._” 

“_It’s an apology for your cut,_ idiot.”

Now Jake was peering over the menu at her, one eyebrow raised. “And you’re _sure_ this has nothing to do with Charles’s weird food blast? I swear to god, if you bring up the mouth feel-”

“It has nothing to do with the-” She frowned as she was about to say _mouth feel_. “You know what, I’m not saying it. It’s the best pizza. Trust me.” 

“You also said the alcohol wouldn’t hurt that bad and it _did_.” 

“You said it wasn’t that bad-”

“I didn’t mean it didn’t _hurt_ that bad.” 

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Then what did you mean?” 

“Uh, just that, ya’know… It wasn’t _as_ bad as I remembered, but it was still pretty bad.” He shifted in his chair and looked more than grateful when their server returned to their table to take their order. She noticed, but didn’t push it when they were alone again. 

After a few moments of silence spent avoiding each other’s eyes, Jake spoke quietly. “Hey, thank you.” She returned a questioning gaze, and he shrugged. “I don’t know, for watching Die Hard and choosing a pizza place and- you really drank orange soda straight out of the bottle with me last night.” He shrugged. “That was cool. You’re a good friend.” 

_A good friend._

She noticed the phrase, placed so intentionally at the end of his sentence. It held such purpose, both in the way he said it and in the phrase itself. She had forgotten what this was. She nodded slowly. “Yeah, I had fun.” 

Her voice sounded hollow even to her, and she could see in his eyes that he was assessing her, trying to piece together the puzzle of what was bothering her, what had been bothering her for days. What was _bothering her_, was him. 

Well, that wasn’t fair. 

But then again, he wasn’t being fair, either. 

He wasn’t being fair when he was looking at her in the car the day before, his eyes intent on her and full of emotion that she couldn’t even identify. His voice betrayed the same unnamed feeling as he told her that she was important to him _as a friend_. 

He wasn’t being fair when he watched that stupid movie. She spent so much of the time watching it actually watching _him_. He’d mouth the words at certain parts, sometimes stopping to actually say them aloud. Every now and then he’d blurt out some random fact that she couldn’t even figure out _how_ he knew, but then his eyes were trained back on the screen like he’d never seen the movie before. She couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off her face as she watched him looking so happy and carefree. He had a smile on his face even as he leaned closer to her, eyes drifting sleepily shut. 

He wasn’t being fair when he woke up so cute in the morning, disheveled and disoriented and discombobulated. He wasn’t being fair when he insisted on covering dinner, something that she thought would be a mess for a variety of reasons, none of which ended up being true. He wasn’t being fair when he chose her favorite foods to make. He really was-

_Wait_.

_Was_ he getting to know her? Had she mentioned those things to him? Did he _remember_ that? She was racking her brain trying to remember if she had eaten those foods around him, but she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had pierogies _or_ potato pancakes, so she was fairly certain he’d never seen her eat them. Was now the time to celebrate memories, with him giving her confusing feelings but then proclaiming surely that they were just friends? 

“What made you choose pierogies and potato pancakes?” 

He looked confused when she finally looked up from the table, letting her gaze hesitantly fall upon his face. “What do you-”

“For dinner. You made pierogies and potato pancakes.” 

“And chicken salad,” he added. “You eat salad a lot, and I know I teased you about it before, but I figured you must really like it for some reason. You don’t always get chicken in your salad, but I figured I could probably choke down a couple of leaves if there was chicken to mask the flavor.” 

“But what about the pierogies? And the potato pancakes?” 

He shrugged. “Ames, I really don’t know. I kind of thought it was a weird combination, but it just felt right. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten them together before.” 

“I have. From-”

“The Polish place,” he said with her. “You get them with hot chocolate.” 

She nodded slowly. “I told you about that?” 

“No, I think… I’m pretty sure I _remembered_.” He pressed his palm to his forehead as if he thought that would confirm his theory. 

“Is that your first real memory?” 

She watched as he leaned his head on his palm, appearing to be thinking pretty hard about something. He opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it again. He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess it is.” 

She smiled and reached across the table to grab his forearm lightly. “Jake, we’ve been doing really well with memories! We’re having way more than when we were just trying to relive our old life.” 

He didn’t look up at her, she noticed. He was staring down at her hand on his arm, his eyebrows pulled together slightly. She watched as he pressed his lips together, the way that they tipped up slightly in the corner as he nodded at her. “Yeah. As _friends_.” 

_Friends._ There goes that stupid word again. She had so much on her mind lately, and she had been thinking about that almost constantly. Was friends the right choice? Were they better as friends? They were certainly better at _remembering_ as friends. But did that mean it was the right choice?

And did that change anything? She wasn’t sure how she was feeling about the other situation. Did her confusing feelings for him make a difference there? They _tried_ dating. It didn’t work. They practically hated each other then. But she didn’t hate him now. In fact, she really liked him. She found herself enjoying spending time with him, laughing at all his stupid jokes, noticing all his little mannerisms and the inflections in his voice. 

But maybe if she just _asked him_. Maybe if she got it all out there, all out in the open, he could help her to dispel some of the worry. That’s why she had been so distracted. She didn’t know what to _do_. It wasn’t really that serious, but given the situation, it had been consuming all of her thoughts because _what would Jake think?_

And why did she even _care_ so much about what he would think? If they were just friends, it shouldn’t _matter_.

But then, in truth, they _weren’t_ just friends. Even if they were acting like just friends, they were still married. They still needed to decide these sorts of things together, she thought. It was her decision, but he should still have a say. That’s all that it was. 

Right? It wasn’t-

No. 

_No._ It wasn’t that she _wanted_ him to object. It wasn’t that she wanted to hear him say that he wanted her as more than a friend. Was that what she wanted? They were doing so well as friends, was she just confusing those feelings for romantic feelings? Was she just hopeful because she knew they had been happy as a couple once? 

“I ran into somebody,” she blurted out abruptly. His eyes flashed across her face, settling back on her eyes again. 

“Oh? Who-”

“He’s, uhm… He’s actually a cop. We met at a code camp together last yea-” She paused, trying to account for the time that she once again forgot that she’d lost. She finished dejectedly. “A few years ago, I guess.”

Jake nodded slowly, his gaze falling back on the table again. Her heart skipped a beat at the tiny action, and she had to take a deep breath to avoid rolling her eyes at herself. She was _nervous_. But over what? He’d already said that they were good as friends. She’s a good friend. That’s how he felt. 

He smiled up at her now, but it didn’t reach his eyes like his smiles normally did. There was a world of difference between the smile she was seeing now and the smile she saw the night before, illuminated by the explosions in _the best movie of all time_.

“Code camp, huh? He sounds… cool?” 

She nodded. “He is pretty cool. I mean, we only bumped into each other for a few minutes, but he was pretty cool before. We went on a few dates?” 

“Recently? I didn’t know you were dating-”

“No, before, I meant…” She trailed off, avoiding his eyes again. “But, speaking of that, he actually, uh… Teddy asked me out.” She looked up at Jake. “On like, a date.” 

Jake hummed quietly in understanding. “Wow, a date? That’s…” He rubbed at the corner of his lips for a second. “That’s great, Ames.”

“Yeah? You think so?” 

“What kind of friend would I be if I wasn’t supportive on this? Unless… I mean, what do _you_ think?” 

She shrugged, suddenly feeling very self-conscious in front of him. Did it have something to do with his use of _friend_ again? Or was it more to do with the fact that he practically just told her to go on a date with someone else? “I don’t know. I wanted to talk to you about it. Before I decided, I mean. That’s what’s been bothering me.” 

He was silent for a moment, and when she looked up at him, he looked sad. “Amy, you could’ve talked to me. I don’t want you to feel like you have to… You were _so_ stressed and distracted. I wish you would’ve gotten this off of your mind sooner.” 

She nodded, and a thick silence settled between them. After a moment, Jake exhaled slowly. He drummed his fingers against the table. “I think you should do it.” 

She felt herself frown before she even had the time to register it. She recovered quickly, raising her eyebrows at him. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Ya’know, it’s just a date, right? I mean, a date with my wife?” He laughed as she rolled her eyes at him. “But seriously. You owe it to yourself to find out if there’s something there, right? We’re doing really good at being just friends.”

“Well,” Amy corrected. 

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, what?” 

“We’re doing really-” She paused, then shook her head. “Never mind. Do you really think I should go?” 

“If he’s as cool as you say he is, you should _definitely_ go. You deserve to be with someone as cool as you.” 

She smiled bashfully, and when she looked back up at him, his smile looked more like the one from the night before. “Thanks, Jake.” 

He nodded, then kicked her gently under the table. “Besides, maybe it’ll get you to stop watching that stupid love show all the time.”

She kicked him back. “I watched a documentary about your brain when you fall in love _once_,” she hissed back, but she didn’t try to hide her smile. 

He shrugged. “It felt like it was on for _three whole days_,” he whined. “And also I’m ordering breadsticks and making you eat half of them because you’ve been having a hard week and bread makes everything better.” 

“Bread doesn’t-”

He held his hand up. “Bread, orange soda, and Die Hard. You’ve had two out of three.” 

She shook her head and laughed at him. “Fine, I’ll eat the breadsticks.” 

He laughed quietly, raising his eyebrows. “I was going to eat _salad_ for you.”

“I said I would eat them!” 

“_Salad_, Amy!”

As they ate their food, Jake barely even arguing that Sal’s beat out Tony’s in every way, Amy couldn’t help but let her mind wander. _Should_ she go on the date? It wouldn’t hurt anything if she did, she supposed. Jake thought she should go. He seemed way more sure than she was about it. Because they were just friends. 

That’s all they were, she reminded herself as he picked what he proclaimed as _the best breadstick,_ the one with the most cheese, and insisted that she take it. _Just friends,_ as he dipped it in the pizza sauce and held it out for her to take a bite. _Just friends_, as he laughed softly and reached across the table to dab some of that sauce off of her chin when he inevitably messily fed it to her. She made a face when he licked the sauce off of his thumb, but she heard the tiny voice in the back of her mind whispering that intrusive thought, and she was glad that they were across the table from each other instead of next to each other, because she may have actually kissed him like she _wanted_ to. 

But that’s not what he wanted. 

He just wanted to be her friend. 

And they _were_ good at being friends. She didn’t even have to say that she’d make _just friends_ work, because _just friends_ was already working beautifully. So what if she _maybe_ wanted more than that? 

Maybe her date with Teddy would get her mind off of Jake. 

That’s what she kept telling herself as she hesitated to send him the text, that night. 

<strike>**Hey, Teddy! I’d love to go on a date with you! I’m available on Saturday if that works for you?**</strike>

<strike> **Teddy! Sorry for taking a few days, but I had some time to think about it and I think a date with you sounds great! How does Saturday sound?** </strike>

She rolled her eyes as she stared at the cursor, deleting yet another drafted text to him. 

**Hey, Teddy! I hope you’re doing well. If you’re still interested, I think a date sounds good. Saturday?**

She took a deep breath. That’s as good as it was going to get. Not too excited, but not too nonchalant, either. She clicked send, watching as the message lit up. 

_Sent._

She locked her phone, already set on do not disturb per her nightly routine, and flicked off the light. She should feel _good_. She should be thinking about Teddy, about how excited she is for this date. She should _be_ excited for the date. Teddy was kind. He was handsome and smart. He had a love for work, just like she did. Teddy was a good man, and she would have a great time on a date with him. 

So how come all she can think about is Jake Peralta?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lemme just be proactive and answer any potential questions regarding Teddy here. 
> 
> THIS Teddy, unlike every other Teddy I've written, is following canon. He's the same guy, been through all the same memories we've seen (all the proposals and sometimes shadiness and never going away) and he _does_ know that she was in the accident and doesn't have her memories. _She_ doesn't yet know that they ever _really_ dated, just remembers the five or so dates they went on prior to Tactical Village.
> 
> tell me how much you don't like this but don't be too mean bc I'm still sad guys thxxx


	8. Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title from the Gravity by Sparks the Rescue. 
> 
> _You're the gravity_  
_That pulls me down._  
_I'm the satellite_  
_Crashing through to the ground._
> 
> _We'll throw a parade_  
_On the day that I return._  
_Darling, will I ever learn?_  
_Darling, will I ever learn?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A loooongish chapter packed full of a lot of things happening very quickly. Should I be taking more time between events here? Let's discuss below the chapter. ¨̮ 
> 
> ENJOY

It had been a few weeks. A few dates, a few lunches, a few awkward run-ins with Teddy in the living room. As he got to know Teddy a little better (a term used sparingly, as he barely knew the man at all), he began running into little details that bothered him, but nothing seemed _wrong_ exactly. He was _jealous_, he thought, an ugly emotion that he would do just about anything to hide and ignore. 

“I don’t know, Rosa. I don’t like the guy.” 

“Amy seems pretty happy,” Rosa commented quietly. “You guys talked about what to do from here?” 

Jake shook his head. He continued snapping a rubber band on his rubber band ball, taking extra care not to look up at Rosa’s gaze. “It’s just been a few dates. But there’s just something _about him_. I can’t explain it.” 

“Well, what’s he like?” 

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Normal, I _guess._ He seems kind of boring. He wore an argyle sweater the other day. On a _date_.” Rosa looked at him, seemingly bored. “I’ll have to text Gina about that, but I’m pretty sure that’s bad.” 

Rosa sighed. “Look… Is it possible that there’s nothing wrong with the guy? And you’re just…” 

Jake groaned. “Don’t say I’m jealous. I’m _not_ jealous. Jealousy is an ugly emotion-”

“Yeah, Jake, you’re right. Jealousy _is_ an ugly emotion, but you’re making problems where there aren’t any and Amy seems perfectly happy, so what are the other possibilities here?” 

Jake grumbled quietly, then answered her rhetorical question. “Maybe he’s not who he says he is and she just hasn’t realized it yet.” 

“What, you mean like he’s not _you_?” 

Jake sighed, rolling his eyes obviously at her. “You’re still the only one who knows anything about all of this, so if you could not mention it to anyone else.”

Rosa rolled her eyes back. “Yeah, because I’m _dying_ to talk about your love life in my personal time. However little you want to hear Charles whine about your breakup, I want to hear it even less.” 

That night, Amy went on her fourth date with Teddy. They were having fun as she got ready, joking and laughing while Jake suggested outfits for her to wear. When he suggested that she wear an old, faded math camp shirt with her skirt and heels, she laughed and pushed him out of the room. 

That’s when there was a knock at the door. It was still half an hour before time for him to show up. He’d been right on time for all their other dates, but today, he was half an hour early. Teddy strolled into the room when Jake opened the door, not bothering to greet each other. After a moment, he finally addressed Jake. 

“So, it’s the fourth date…” Teddy noted, smiling wide enough that it almost made Jake mad. “Pretty big night, huh?” 

Jake raised an eyebrow at him. “I guess? Not as important as like, the fifth date? Or the tenth?”

Teddy laughed, a hearty, annoying sound. “You probably don’t remember your fourth date with Amy.” 

Jake’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t. But why was Teddy talking like _he_ remembered a fourth date with Amy? When this _was_ his fourth date with her. It hadn’t happened yet. 

“Just trust me on this, it’s going to be a good night.” 

Jake was gearing up for some sort of tense conversation when Amy opened the door. “Is Teddy here? It’s early.” She called down the hallway as she made her way closer until she appeared at the end of it. 

She was wearing a pair of jeans and a white floral blouse. Her hair was down. She didn’t wear it that way too often. Even when Jake was in there talking to her while she got ready, she had her hair up, but now it hung down around her shoulders. She looked over at Teddy, then tucked her hair on one side behind her ear. 

“Hey. I like that sweater,” she said as she walked over to him, leaning in for a quick hug. 

“Yeah, it’s your favorite,” he said with a smile. 

Both Jake and Amy made a face. “What?” She asked. 

He stammered for a moment, and Jake noticed every second of it. “I thought maybe it would be your favorite. Was I right?” 

“Oh…” Amy seemed like she was mulling the thought over for a minute, but then she just nodded. “Yeah, I like it a lot.” 

When they left a few minutes later, it gave Jake all the time he needed to figure out why he hated Teddy so much. He could have gone full Santiago style, pulled out a binder or a white board for all the reasons why Teddy was bad news, but he thought that was taking it a bit far. He poured over all the interactions he’d had with the guy. 

He met Teddy briefly on the night of their first date. He let him in the apartment while Amy was getting ready, explained (maybe a little possessively, like hello, I’m Jake and _I_ know what she’s doing but _you_ don’t, and he caught the tone in his voice and shook his head at himself when he turned around so it was basically okay, right?) to him that she was getting ready, and then stared at him. Not just stared at him, but inspected him, detective style. 

He was tall, a few inches taller than Jake. He was dressed nice, he supposed, in a navy sweater with the collar of a button-down peeking out. He had on plain khakis and dress shoes. After a few moments of Jake’s eyes trained on him, he cleared his throat and spoke. 

“So, you and Amy are married?” 

Jake raised an eyebrow at him. He was surprised for a second that she would have mentioned that to him before the first date, but he shrugged it off. It made sense that she would want to get everything all cleared up before they actually went on the date. She wouldn’t want to lead him in the wrong direction or have him unknowingly get himself into a situation like this. It’s a weird situation, and she was right that it probably warranted explaining beforehand. 

“Uh, yeah… We’re married.” Jake looked him over again. There was something _about_ him that he just couldn’t place. He looked like a normal guy, but there was just some _thing_ that had Jake on edge. What was it?

Teddy made a quiet sound of understanding, then took another step toward Jake. He felt himself tense, almost like he was preparing for a fight even though he knew that wasn’t happening. At least he didn’t _think_ that was happening, but Teddy was standing in a very similar way and for a moment he wondered if he _was_ about to fight Amy’s date in their living room. 

“Guess things aren’t going very well between you two, huh?” He asked the question quietly, his eyes darting cautiously down the hallway towards the bathroom. That’s where Amy was, but Jake hadn’t said that. He said she was getting ready, mentioned nothing about the bathroom. Amy hadn’t made a single sound from there since Teddy came in, and yet he was looking exactly at the door that she was behind and for some reason, Jake felt the first real red flag go up. 

But it was nothing. It was _nothing_. Maybe she made a sound in there and he just hadn’t heard it. Maybe he wasn’t looking at the bathroom door at all. Maybe he was just looking down the hallway in a home he had never been to before. He had already taken a beat too long to respond to Teddy’s comment, a comment voiced in a tone too arrogant for the moment, but he couldn’t just say _nothing_. 

“Things are going _great_ between us,” he replied in an equally arrogant tone. “We’re really good friends.” 

Teddy chuckled quietly. “Okay, Peralta.” 

Amy walked out of the bathroom at that moment, her voice leaving the room before she did. 

“Jake, I’m going to be-” she trailed off when she saw the two of them standing face to face, looking more than tense. “Uh… What’s going on?” 

The two of them separated quickly after she stepped into the hallway, but she’d caught their stance anyway. Teddy stepped toward Amy, greeting her in a hug that made Jake’s skin crawl. He was scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably and looking down at the floor when they separated. 

Amy took a step away from Teddy and looked over at Jake. “Jake? You okay?”

He cleared his throat, nodding quickly. “Uh, yeah. Everything’s fine.”

“Okay…” She turned again when Teddy grabbed her hand. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here already,” she said quietly. “It looks like you two met already, but Teddy, this is Jake. He’s my… _roommate_.” 

Teddy avoided Jake’s eyes as he looked at him suspiciously. _Roommate._ The word bothered him on many different levels, some of which he wasn’t going to get into at the moment (_Roommate_? What about husband, friend, colleague? _Roommate?_), but the thing that bothered him most was that she introduced him in such a way _at all_. Teddy knew his name, and he’d already noted that he knew that she and Jake were married. If he already knew that, hadn’t she already explained it all to him?

But maybe it wasn’t _for_ Teddy. Maybe it was because Jake hadn’t been there for the awkward husband conversation. Maybe she just didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable, like she’d intentionally not introduced them at all even though they were standing in the room together. He shrugged it off again. But as they walked out of the room, Jake wondering what it was that Amy was going to say to him as she had walked out of the bathroom, he realized one thing for certain. 

He did _not_ like Teddy Wells. 

Call it a feeling, call it intuition. Superstition? One of those words, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t like him. He had a feeling about him, and it was a feeling that made the hair at the back of his neck stand on end. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Jake was sure that he was a nice enough guy, and he trusted that Amy could take care of herself just fine, but all of this aside, he still did not like him. 

There were similar occurrences at the second and third dates, Teddy making comments that just seemed out of place or strange. Then there was _tonight._ He said that the sweater was her favorite, but she’d never seen it before. Or at least, she didn’t _remember_ seeing it before. Had she seen it, but she just doesn’t have the memory?

This took Jake down a completely different rabbit hole. Prior to this, he wasn’t really sure where all these little details were taking him. He knew there was something strange about Teddy that made him go on alert, but he wasn’t sure what or why. Then he referenced _knowing what the fourth date meant_, something that for a moment he thought was just a general statement on the dates Teddy had been on, but he was quickly realizing may have had a completely different meaning altogether. 

Maybe he had been on a fourth date with Amy before. Maybe he knew exactly what this fourth date would hold because he’d experienced the same fourth date at a different time, years ago, during a time which Amy had no memories for. 

That was _crazy_. Ridiculous, even. But the more he thought about it, the more sense it all made. Amy _hadn’t_ mentioned that they were married. He knew that Jake and Amy were married because he had been around for that. He had dated Amy, and he was keeping tabs or something. He knew the sweater was her favorite because it _used to be_ her favorite. 

But this didn’t really make sense. Why would he do that? He seemed like a nice enough guy, and that was a pretty sleazy move. He wasn’t even sure if the Vulture would do something like that- That’s a lie, he definitely would. But would Teddy? 

This was a serious accusation he was forming in his head. He couldn’t just rush Amy with this. He had no real proof, just gut feelings and tiny observations that may have meant nothing at all. She’d probably be mad if he just showed up talking about how the guy she liked was actually a creep. 

Plus, what if she thought he was just saying it because he was jealous?

_Was he_ just saying this because he was jealous? 

He went in his room, collapsing on the bed and rubbing his eyes. He just wanted to shut his mind off for a little while. This was so much to think about, and he couldn’t be sure whether he was wrong and maybe all of the things he noticed really _were_ nothing. Maybe his imagination was just getting the best of him, fueled by that stupid emotion that he couldn’t quite flick out of his mind. 

But what if she had been noticing those things, too?

He heard the door open, then heard footsteps across the house until another door shut, a little harder than normal. 

It was barely after nine thirty. They’d only been gone for like two hours. Maybe the date went badly? 

He went back out into the living room, making sure to make adequate noise so that she knew he was out there. He was hoping she’d hear him and come out to talk, but she didn’t. Eventually he gave up and went back in his room, and when he got up in the morning, she was already in the living room waiting for him. Her mother had invited them to dinner, she wanted to know if he would be willing to come.

“So?” He prompted again, getting another little eye roll from the passenger seat. “How did it go?” 

“I _told you_,” she replied, “it went fine.” 

He hummed quietly, glancing at her and earning a little scoff in response. They were in the car on the way to Amy’s parents’ house in record time. Camila _insisted_ that they come over for early because none of her brothers had seen them since the accident. Jake had since learned that this meant that they would be dedicating their _entire_ Sunday to hanging out at the Santiago house. He was talking to keep himself distracted because he was more than a little nervous about meeting (well, _technically_ meeting) all of her brothers for the first time (that he could remember), and even though he’d met Victor, he was still more than a little bit afraid of him (was he afraid of him before he lost his memory?). 

So he fished for details from Amy’s date with Teddy the night before. Did he even really _want_ those details? He wasn’t sure. He _was_ sure that he’d rather talk about something than think about what was waiting for him after their twenty minute drive and currently the only thing he could think to talk about was the only other thought on his mind: did she _like him_? And if so… _why_? And had she liked him before? And was he actually doing what he thought he was doing? 

“I’m just _saying_,” Jake began again. “You were home pretty early. Was it _fine_, or was it good? Or was it _bad_?” 

Amy sighed. “It was fine, Jake. We went to dinner, we talked a little bit. He offered to take me back to his place, I wasn’t really feeling up to that, so I said I’d rather go home. He walked me to the door-”

Jake laughed quietly. “Oh god, did he kiss you like in one of those cheesy movies?” 

“He tried.” 

Jake turned to look at her. “Oh my god, he tried to kiss you and you _didn’t let him_?” She nodded slowly. “Ames, that date wasn’t fine, it was bad.” 

“No, it was fine,” she argued. 

He shrugged. “Look, whatever you say, but I’ve been on dates before and if you try to kiss a girl and she turns her head to get out of the kiss, that’s a pretty easy way to know that the date didn’t go well.” 

“We’re going on another date in a few days,” she said with a shrug. 

“_Oh._” 

She was looking out her window now, and he could tell by both her tone and her body language that he had pushed her too far again. He was reminded of his dream, the way she was tensed and looking away from him. 

“Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” He trailed off. 

“What do you think of him?” She asked, still looking away. When he went a few seconds without answering, she turned to look at him. 

“He seems… nice.” He shrugged his shoulders, careful not to look over at her. “What do _you_ think of him? That’s what matters.” 

She was quiet for a moment. “He seems nice,” she repeated. “He tries really hard to be funny, I think. But he’s nice.” 

“So you’re going on another date, huh?”

“Unless I can find a reason not to.” 

_That wasn’t a challenge,_ he reminded himself. _You’re not the reason not to._ But his heart sank to his stomach for a second before he composed himself, finding some other subject to chatter about until they pulled up to her parents’ house. 

There were cars all lined up outside. Amy groaned quietly. 

“Are they all already here?” Jake asked, driving past the house to try and find a parking spot.

She sighed. “Punctuality runs in the family, I guess.” 

Jake had seen Amy in a lot of tense situations since he’d woken up and met her. He’d watched as realization had crept into her eyes in those hospital beds so many months ago, when she first found that he did not remember her, either. He watched as she stepped off of the elevator and into their precinct, completely unsure about what was waiting for her on the other side. And yet somehow, this was the most stressed he had ever seen her. Her shoulders were squared as she marched up the walkway a little faster than was normal. He was practically running behind her to keep up. 

“Hey,” he said softly as they were approaching the door. She stopped and looked at him. He grabbed her hand, squeezing gently. “I’m here. Tell me what you need.” 

She smiled at him, squeezing his hand back. “Thank you.”

And then she let his hand go, turning to knock on the door. Victor opened the door, greeting Amy with a hug and Jake with a stern handshake. He realized as he walked into the room, a sea of faces that he didn’t know but that all looked vaguely similar to the woman whose hand he wished he was still holding, that they never actually talked about any of this. 

He never got a rundown on any of her siblings, aside from that one story from when they were children. He never looked at pictures of them, never heard current stories. They never talked about what her family knew about their current situation. Were they married? Were they dating? Were they friends? Did they know anything? 

He decided quickly that they did not, because that comforting feeling of Amy’s hand returning to his grounded him a little. Things were moving very quickly from the moment they stepped in the door. Brothers rushed toward them, nobody introducing themselves, but Amy just squeezed his hand again. He turned to look at her. 

“Okay, okay, everybody. Give them some space,” Victor called out. “Jake probably doesn’t even remember all of you.” 

“David,” Jake said, sure of himself. He gestured toward the correct brother. Amy looked at him, eyebrows raised. 

Eli laughed obnoxiously. “Look Amy, Jake’s just like mom. He likes David more than you, too!”

Luke nudged Elijah in the side, but laughed with him. “Shit, he remembered David, but he didn’t remember you?”

Benji walked over, pulling Amy into a hug. “Probably just because David’s so _annoying_, how could someone forget _that_?” 

“_Hey_,” David whined, punching Ben lightly in the shoulder. When Benji let go of Amy and turned around, ready to punch David back, he ducked in and hugged Amy, too. As soon as he let her go, he turned and pulled Jake in. Jake made a face at Amy over David’s shoulder, earning a smile and a laugh from both Amy and Benji. 

“This is-” Amy began gesturing at the brother who had first hugged her. 

“Wait, can I guess?” Jake interrupted. He looked among all of the brothers, excitedly tapping his fingers together. “I really wanna guess.” 

“He may have lost his memories, but he’s the same Jake,” Luke noted with a chuckle. 

He looked back and forth between all of the brothers for another moment. “I mean, that’s obviously Benji,” Jake pointed at him as if it had been obvious. “Those two…” He gestured to two men standing across the room from each other. “Must be the twins. Mateo and Julian. I’m sorry, I’m not sure which is which yet.” 

“Oh, _c’mon_,” both of them whined. 

“Shut up, _Julian_,” Mateo jutted his chin forward at his brother. 

“We don’t even _look alike_,” Julian yelled. 

“You _all_ look alike!” Jake replied with a flourish of his hand. Eli laughed loudly again. 

“Eli,” Jake nodded toward him. 

“Hey! How did you know?” 

Jake shrugged. “The laugh, I think.” Eli crossed his arms, quiet at that. 

“So all I have left are Tony and Luke,” Jake hummed, looking around the room. “And Tony’s the oldest, so…” He pointed at him. “How’d I do?” 

Amy returned her hand to his once again. “You did great, babe.” 

He knew she was only saying it for her family. He knew that it was all a show, because they didn’t know about them breaking up. He knew that she was still going to go on another date with Teddy, but his heart fluttered at the name regardless. 

He found himself touching her for no reason throughout the entire night. He wouldn’t have done it, except that she was doing the same thing to him. He’d sit down and she’d stand behind him, her hand idly rubbing at his shoulder, fingertips grazing his neck and making him fight off a shiver. They’d sit next to each other on the couch and he’d wind his arm around her waist. 

And again, he knew it was just for show, but it felt good either way. Things were a little more confusing when she laced her fingers with his underneath the table at dinner. Nobody could see their hands, so it wasn’t for show. Was it for comfort? The thought kept bouncing into his head, but he tried his best to shrug it away. He was enjoying having an arm wrapped around her, feeling her laugh rumbling through her ribcage as Benji told an embarrassing story about David. 

When David cut in with, “What are _you_ laughing at, _Princesa de la Mesa?_” He felt Amy, who had been relaxing into his side, tense again. 

“C’mon, don’t start with that, man,” Benji warned. 

“Nah, man, _c'mon_. Jake doesn’t know any of Amy’s embarrassing stories!” Mateo pushed David. 

“And now’s _probably_ not the time to share them,” Julian agreed, eyes flickering between all of his siblings. 

“It was Amy’s twenty-first birthday,” David continued. 

“David, c’mon,” Amy protested. 

“You told this story the first time you met Jake,” Luke cut in. “He may have lost the memory, but is it really _that_ entertaining for you?” 

“What kind of big brother would I be,” David interjected, “if I didn’t tease my baby sister in front of her husband?”

“I don’t know, a good one?” Benji waved his hand at David.

“Hold on, is this the story where Amy got on the table at the bar?” Tony asked, looking sincere. 

David groaned. “You just took the _best_ part of the story!”

“Amy did _what_?” Camila asked from the kitchen. 

Jake was torn between wanting to laugh at how cute Amy looked, blushing and practically hiding her face in his side, and wanting to glare at David until he disappeared for trying so hard to embarrass her. 

“Ma, it wasn’t _like that_,” Benji tried to defend, but Camila was already coming in the room with judging eyes falling on Amy. 

“Yeah, Mamita,” David continued. “She wasn’t _dancing_-”

“She could dance on a table if she _wanted to_,” Julian interrupted. “It’s 2019 David, c’mon.” 

David rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but this wasn’t 2019, this was _2004._ And she wasn’t dancing, she was trying to get away from Constantine.” 

“Oh my god! I forgot all about Constantine!” Luke shouted. 

“Constantine? Who’s Constantine?” Jake asked, wincing when Amy elbowed him in the side for the comment. He laughed, but shot her an apologetic look. 

“Only Amy’s _worst_ boyfriend,” Luke gushed. 

Benji scoffed. “Are you forgetting about Teddy? _Teddy_ was Amy’s worst boyfriend. Right, Amy? God, when he showed up and tried to ruin your wedding?”

“Or what about all the times he proposed to her even after she and Jake were engaged?” Mateo echoed. 

Jake’s voice was significantly weaker when he spoke. “I’m sorry… Did you just say ‘Teddy?’” 

The room fell silent for a moment. However tense Amy had been a while before, she was triple that. 

“Uh… Yeah?” Benji glanced between Jake and Amy slowly, trying to assess whatever was going on between them. 

“Teddy… Uh, Teddy who?” 

“Teddy Wells,” David offered. “He’s a cop. Do you remember him?” 

Jake cleared his throat. “Nope, doesn’t ring a bell,” he lied quietly, immediately feeling the loss of her warmth as Amy quietly excused herself to the bathroom. She must have realized the same thing that he had. All of those little red flags he had gathered in the past few weeks, all those tiny details that had been so easy to convince himself meant nothing at all, they were _real_. They _were_ red flags, and he _should have_ paid attention to them. They weren’t _just_ observations, they were gut feelings related to his dormant memories about Amy’s ex-boyfriend. 

Her ex-boyfriend, who she was currently _dating_. Her ex-boyfriend, who knew that he and Amy were married not because she had mentioned it to him, but because he _knew them._ Her ex-boyfriend, who had to have known about the accident. He was taking advantage of her memory loss. He was taking advantage of _her_.

Amy’s brothers chattered quietly about how the way she just got up and left in the middle of the story had been strange. Jake interjected quietly about going to check on her, and before he knew it, he was knocking on the bathroom door gently. 

“Ames? Can I come in?” 

It was silent for a moment, but then he heard the lock turning and the door cracked open. He pushed it open the rest of the way, finding Amy sitting on the edge of the bathtub with her head in her hands. He shut the door quietly behind him, making sure to twist the lock before he made his way over to her. 

“Hey,” he said softly, sitting next to her and placing a hand on her back comfortingly. 

“I noticed,” she mumbled. 

“What?” 

“I noticed things,” she continued. “Things that didn’t make sense, or things that he said or did that just seemed weird. But I thought it was just all in my head.”

“You noticed things?” 

She sat up straight, turning to look at him. “Yeah. Like last night, when he said that his sweater was my favorite.” 

“I noticed, too,” he said quietly. “But I didn’t want you to be mad or to think I was just saying it because…” 

She turned her head, looking out the window of the second floor bathroom. “I can’t believe I could be so stupid. We _dated_.”

“Hey, you’re not stupid, Ames. How could you have known?”

“But there were so many signs and I ignored all of them.”

“Yeah, because who would _do_ that? You’re not the problem, he is.” 

“I know.” She shook her head, then reached over and took Jake’s hand again. “I know. Thank you.” 

He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. I wish I would have said something to you.”

She shrugged. “I mean, it was four dates. It’s not like anything happened. He made a comment about you moving out of the apartment last night, then he tried to get me to go home with him. That’s why I left. And why I wouldn’t kiss him.” 

“Yeah, when you were getting ready he told me _you know what the fourth date means_, so that seems like it was his plan all along.” 

Amy scoffed quietly. “Not _that_. Because of _you._” 

He turned to look at her. She didn’t kiss Teddy because of _him_?

“I think we should tell everyone,” Amy blurted out. 

Jake scrunched his eyebrows up. “About Teddy?” 

“About us. Breaking up.” 

Jake cleared his throat, pulling his hand away from hers. “Oh. Yeah, I mean… Okay. If that’s what you want.” 

“I just think maybe if we had told people, I would have mentioned Teddy to someone and it wouldn’t have gotten this far. I wonder how many other possible scenarios like this there are.” 

Jake nodded. “What are you gonna say to him, by the way?” 

Amy shrugged. “What do you say to someone who pretends they never dated you and takes advantage of your brain injury induced amnesia to try and date you again? Any tips?”

“Fuck that guy,” Jake mumbled. “You deserve better than him anyway. He’s-”

“Boring? He talked about pilsners _a lot_, and then it was like he was trying his hardest not to but he was _still_ doing it? God, and he even tried to tell a sex tape joke.” 

“I’m sorry, he _what_?” Jake scoffed. “God, you can steal my wife, but don’t steal my _jokes_.” 

Amy laughed and elbowed him gently in the ribs. “Shut up, jerk.” 

He laughed with her. “But seriously. Are you okay?” 

She nodded, then looked up at him. “I have you, right?” She laughed, and he noted the little bit of acidity behind the sound. “Hey, we should make a pact. If we don’t fall in love with someone we _haven’t_ already broken up with before we’re thirty-five, we marry each other. Oh _wait_-”

“Hey, we’re ahead of the curve on _both of those_,” he replied with a laugh. 

They laughed together for a moment, then she leaned her head on his shoulder. “Thanks for being cool about all of that hand holding and everything out there. I know I kind of ambushed you with all that.” 

He returned his hand to hers again. “I don’t think I’ve ever left a friend hanging when they needed me to lie for them. I’m not gonna start now.” 

She laughed, and he felt her shake her head against his shoulder. They sat together in silence, her hand in his and her head leaning on him. “Maybe we don’t tell my family yet?” 

He turned, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Whatever you need, Ames.” 

After a moment, she adjusted so that she could pull away from him slightly. But they were still so _close_, he noted as he watched her bite her lip. She turned to look out the window briefly, then turned back to face him. Silence had never felt so loud to him, and his eyes were searching her face and he could see hers doing the same to his, the way they lingered at his lips, which he licked in anticipation. _Anticipation?_

_Yes_, he realized without a doubt that it _was_ anticipation as she inched closer to him, tipping her head in just the slightest movement, a movement he probably wouldn’t have even noticed if they hadn’t already been _so_ close. His fingertips brushed against her arm as he looked at her, slowly tracing a path from her elbow up her arm, destination set on tangling those fingers in her hair. He looked at her, a grin playing against his lips as he felt the goosebumps he raised in his path. 

He trailed his fingers over the curve of her shoulder, up over her collarbone, and across the side of her neck until his palm rested on her jaw, his thumb caressing her cheek. Her eyes were big and earnest as she looked up at him, and then they were closing as they finally began leaning into one another. 

_Bang_.

They jumped as they broke away from each other, the sound of something slamming into the door startling them both. Jake fell backwards into the bathtub, Amy gasping as she reached for him, but ultimately falling in on top of him as she lost her battle with gravity. 

“Yo, _Amy_,” one of her brothers, Jake _thought_ Carlos, called out. “Just because you’re married doesn’t mean you can have sex in mom’s bathroom. Trust me, I’ve tried.” 

Amy groaned, awkwardly trying to disentangle herself from the uncomfortable pile she was in with Jake. Once she finally got up, she reached down and helped him to stand up, too. He cleared his throat quietly. 

“So, uh…” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I just-”

“It’s okay,” she cut in. “Today’s been a lot, you don’t have to…” 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’ll just-”

“We can-”

They both reached for the doorknob, then stopped when they bumped hands. Jake took a step back. “I’m sorry, go ahead.” 

She took a deep breath, then opened the door and stepped out, leaving Jake with _just_ a moment to look at himself in the mirror before he joined her. He looked just as frazzled as he felt, and he hoped that he could only see that in his reflection because he knew how he was feeling. If her brothers could see it too, he was sure he’d be on the receiving end of endless teasing. 

The rest of the night went _mostly_ without problem. Her brothers teased them for “having sex in the bathroom” for a few minutes, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Something that was a little _more_ alarming, David’s wife showing up with their baby. She immediately claimed that Jake was one of the baby’s favorite people, then plopped the baby on his lap without warning. He’d never even _held_ a baby before, not that he could _remember_ at least. After a few minutes and a little bit of assistance from Amy, he felt like he was kind of getting the hang of it. 

The baby laughed at him as he made faces and sounds at her, and he looked between the smiling faces of Amy, nestled into his side, and the baby perched on his lap. He wished he knew why he felt so comfortable there, in a situation that sounded anything but comfortable for someone in his position. 

As they said all their goodbyes, a process that took way longer than Jake ever could have imagined, and got into the car, their awkward interaction in the bathroom was back at the forefront of his mind. 

Should he bring it up? She already had so much on her mind, did she really need to worry about his feelings surrounding their almost kiss? They _were_ going to kiss, right? That wasn’t all in his head? 

No, his hand was on her face, she was leaning into him. They were _definitely_ going to kiss. He’d ignored signs recently, but he knew what the signs of someone about to kiss him were, and she checked all of those boxes. The lingering eye contact, the slightly parted lips--he could see it all now. She wanted to kiss him. And he wanted to kiss her, too. 

But was it just because emotions were running high? She was confused, about Teddy, about what to do. He was feeling off because he wasn’t used to her hands in his and it felt so _nice_ and he was starting to like her more and more as the days went by and what if kissing her felt nice, too? What if it felt different than the last time they had shared a brief kiss? What if it was more than nice?

So should he bring it up? 

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, stealing glimpses of her leaned back in her seat, eyes shut while the streetlights cast shadows on her face. She looked so calm, so peaceful. He shouldn’t disturb her, she’d had such a long day. 

So what happens if he doesn’t bring it up? Nothing changes? That wasn’t so bad, all things considered. They were still married, and even with the Teddy mishap, it seemed like each day took them a little closer to actually _acting_ married instead of the weird broken-up-still-friends-almost-kiss-in-your-parents’-bathroom purgatory that they’d been living in. Maybe talking about it would give them the final push to try this all again. 

But did she even have feelings for him? Sure, she was about to kiss him, but what did that mean? People kiss people that they don’t have actual feelings for all the time. And even if she did have feelings for him, she _was_ about to get out of a relationship. A short-lived, not great relationship, but a relationship all the same. Maybe he shouldn’t bother her about it. Like he’d said (repeatedly) she had enough to think about without him adding on all of his stupid feelings. His feelings were _his_ problem, not hers. 

And then there was the issue of her potentially not even liking him back. _Then what?_ He confesses his lo- _not love_, but whatever confusing feelings he was having for her and she...? Apologizes? Says that she thinks they’re better as friends? Even the thought of that rejection was making him squirm in his seat. And how would they come back from that? 

They _wouldn’t_. He’d tell her he liked her and she’d be so polite about the rejection, but it would be rejection all the same. Then how would he handle being around her? It would be sad or uncomfortable. She’d find another boyfriend, hopefully one she hadn’t already dated, and he’d watch her move on but how was he supposed to move on if they were living together and he had to watch her make that cute face she always made after her first sip of coffee? If he had to try to pretend that he didn’t notice the way that the small of her back peeked out of her shirt when she stretched after spending longer than usual on a crossword? He couldn’t ever fall for somebody else if he was busy falling harder for her every day. 

And if she didn’t want him, why should he keep falling for her? He’d just be making everything worse, getting himself deeper into a situation that she’d already expressed not wanting to be a part of. He wasn’t Teddy, he wasn’t going to try and force her to be with him if that wasn’t what she wanted. He’d have to move out, to start all over. A new home, a new life, an ex-wife. Is that where this was headed? Would it be better to push away the inevitable? He’d rather live like this than willingly walk into _that._

But he wanted _more_. He didn’t even know _what_ or _how much_, but the answer was definitely more jokes that didn’t end with her laughing against his lips, more than helping her get ready for a date with someone else. 

Is that what _she_ wanted? He wouldn’t know if he never asked her. And what if it _was_ what she wanted? What if she leaned into him, even closer than before, whispering about how she’d been having the same sorts of thoughts? What if she pressed her lips against his to get him to shut up because he was inevitably rambling on about all the feelings that had been overwhelming him for way too long? What if he didn’t have to pretend that he didn’t notice things about her? He could wrap his arms around her when he felt that urge, press little kisses against her neck and listen to the sound of her laugh fading into an impossibly even more appealing sound. 

He looked over at her again, her lips drawn into a gentle smile as she drifted off to sleep. He _would_ talk to her about it. But not tonight. Tonight, things felt good. He didn’t want to ruin it with unnecessary talk about things that may or may not actually matter. Tonight, he felt love for her in the form of friendship, and that was a perfect little bubble that he had no interest in threatening. He would give it a few days. Maybe things would change between them organically. He wouldn’t have to bring the conversation up so awkwardly if they just happened to fall back into that same situation that they were in with no one around to disturb the moment. He would wait and see. 

He pulled into his parking space, immediately laughing at Amy, who was now leaned against the window, passed out. He nudged her gently, shaking her a little when she didn’t respond at all. 

“Hey, Ames?” He shook her again, and she opened her eyes just enough to glare at him. He laughed quietly as she shut her eyes again. “Amy, c’mon. We’re home, let’s go inside.”

She kept her eyes closed, but snuggled further into her seat. “No. I’m staying here.” 

“Your family does something weird to you.” He laughed again. “You want me to carry you?” 

Her eyes snapped open, annoyance creeping onto her features. She sat up, eyebrows furrowing more with every passing second as she glared at Jake for waking her up. 

He laughed. “I didn’t think so. Look, I’m not gonna leave you in the car overnight so somebody can _abduct you_.”

“We live in a nice neighborhood,” Amy protested, shivering as she opened her door and stepped into the chilly night. 

“Rosa just had a mugging case-”

“That was _two blocks from here_.”

Jake put up his hands mockingly. “Oh, I’m sorry. You’re right, the criminals could never walk _two blocks further_. I’m just saying, if they’ll break into a car for a purse, what do you think they’d do if they saw _you_? Sleeping peacefully, looking all-” He trailed off, quieting as he unlocked and opened the door.

He pushed the door open, waiting for her to step through it. After a moment, he turned to face her, still standing behind him. She had her eyebrows raised, arms crossed against her chest in an effort to keep some of the heat in. 

“Looking all _what_?” She asked.

He shook his head. “What? Nothing.” 

She shook her head back at him. “No, you said ‘sleeping peacefully, looking all…’ Looking all _what_?” 

He stammered for a moment, her eyes prompting him silently. “Just… defenseless? Because you’re asleep, and…” He shrugged. “You know, you’d probably kick someone’s ass if they broke into the car, but they wouldn’t know that, because you’re so-”

She took a step back, making a face at him. “I’m so what? _Defenseless?_”

“What? What, no, that’s not… You’re not… That isn’t what I was going to say.”

“Then what _were_ you going to say?”

“You’re cute, okay? They’d see a cute girl sleeping in a car and then… And even if that didn’t happen, what happens when you wake up at 3am and you’re cold but you don’t have a blanket to pull onto you so you get out of the car and set off the alarm? And you don’t have the keys on you, because I took the keys inside with me. All the neighbors will wake up and you’ll be grumpy because it’s the middle of the night and it’ll be like that one time when I got locked out and you were asleep and then I locked the keys in the car but I didn’t know and I was going to drive to Charles’s house but then I set off the alarm and it woke up the entire _neighborhood_ and you-” He took a deep breath, shaking his head and trying to rub the tension out of his forehead. 

“What did I do?” She asked softly, taking a step toward him. 

He walked through the door, still rubbing at his forehead. She followed him in, shutting the door gently behind her. 

After a moment, he felt her hand on the back of his arm. “Jake?”

He turned toward her, his expression immediately softening. He smiled weakly at her. “It’s fine.” He looked down at the floor, trying his hardest to fight off the heat rising to his cheeks. “You told me everything was fine, and you told the neighbor you didn’t _give a hoot_ if I woke him up, he didn’t need to raise his voice at me over an accident.” He shrugged, her hand falling away from his arm. “Then you took me inside and we went to bed.” 

He shrugged again, and it took a moment before he could bring himself to meet her gaze. She looked inquisitive. Not quite smiling, though her lips were slightly upturned. 

“It’s fine,” he repeated, putting a little extra effort into his next smile. 

She smiled back at him, nodding before she turned away. “Okay, well I’m going to get a head start on my breakup speech before bed, I guess.” 

Jake chuckled quietly. “A breakup speech? What even is that?” 

She glared at him again. “It’s how I make sure that I tell Teddy everything that’s on my mind.” 

“How very _efficient_ of you, Amelia,” Jake teased. 

She shoved him playfully. “God, why did I marry you again?” Unlike the last time she’d said those words to him, she was laughing. 

“Probably my good looks, the fact that I’m the best detective at the nine-nine, and my all around, general manliness-” He paused and ducked behind her. “Oh my god, is that a spider? Amy, _kill it_,” he squealed. 

She laughed, walking over and inspecting the fuzzy stuck to the wall. She flicked it to the floor. “You’re right. That’s probably it.” She turned back to face him, stepping a little closer than necessary. Her voice dropped down so that she was barely whispering. “And the only reason you’re the best detective at work? Is because I’m technically a sergeant.” 

She brushed past him as she walked away. “Goodnight, Jake.” 

Jake squeezed his eyes shut briefly before he turned to watch her walk away. “Goodnight, Ames.” 

And that would have been all. He would have been drifting off to sleep within thirty minutes, doomed to be startled awake by the crash in a matter of time. That _would’ve_ been all, except that there was something else that happened in that memory. That memory, which, by the way, assaulted him out of nowhere in the middle of him already being upset about something. Seems like a pretty unfair way for a memory to make its way back into awareness, but he supposed he should be grateful that it happened at all. 

_Fuck._ He whispered to himself. He knocked on the door again, and when she didn’t answer, he knocked on the closest window to their bedroom, too. It was 3 am, and he’d just finally gotten done with the worst case he’d had to deal with in… well, he couldn’t remember the case itself or any of his other cases for that matter, just that it was bad. Not bad in the _cool, this was a terrible crime_ sense, but bad in the _mountains of paperwork that you have to finish before you leave, Peralta_ sense.

After about half an hour, he gave in. He’d just show up at Charles’s house. He wouldn’t be _thrilled_, per se, but he would let him in. He was kicking himself again for not giving Charles an extra key to the apartment, though he _did_ see Amy’s point (but what _was_ that point again?). He made his way down the steps, sleep-deprived and missing the woman who was undoubtedly sleeping peacefully just out of his reach, when he tugged on the door handle _just_ hard enough. 

Just hard enough for _what_, you may wonder. _Wondering._ Something their entire neighborhood was doing as his car alarm _blared_ through the quiet streets. The car alarm for the locked car. He could see the keys on his seat, and he pulled the door handle hard enough to set off the alarm, but not hard enough to get the door open. He uselessly tugged at the stupid thing, hoping the latch would give in and let him grab the keys that he was staring at but then the door opened and she was looking at him, one eyebrow raised as she leaned on the doorframe. She clicked the alarm button, silencing the screeching car. 

_What are you doing?_

He looked bashfully between her and the car, then shrugged his shoulders. _I thought maybe you forgot to set your 3:30 am alarm. Didn’t want you to sleep through it._

She opened her mouth to reply, but the neighbor was storming through his door and off of his staircase before she had a chance. Jake was on the sidewalk by this point, and the man was coming straight for him, finger wagging angrily at his face. Jake put his hands up innocently, making a face at the man but not bothering to defend himself.

_What the fuck do you think you’re doing out here, man? I’m trying to sleep and you’re out here setting off alarms, what are you, fuckin’ stupid? Learn how to use your goddamn car-_

Before he could even register the movement, Amy was between them, firmly standing her ground in front of the man. He stopped shaking his finger and took a step back, perturbed and confused about what she was doing in front of him. 

_Don’t talk to him like that. He isn’t-_

_I’m trying to sleep!_

_I don’t give a hoot what you’re trying to do! You don’t need to talk to him like that. He didn’t set off the alarm on purpose and-_

_I just-_

_No! You can just go back in your house and go back to bed, because the alarm is off now and it isn’t going to be going off again._

_Okay, sorry, jeez._ The guy said, raising his hands up the same way Jake had. Jake was left blinking wildly behind his badass wife, who turned to face him with a proud smile on her face. Her old math camp t-shirt was draped around her, still way too big for her, just like in the pictures from when she was younger. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him with her up the stairs.

Once they were shut safely into the darkness of their home, her fingers were pulling through the hair at the nape of his neck, lips quick to meet his. He broke away long enough to mumble against her lips about how _that was so hot_, long enough for her to tell him to _shut up_ before her lips were back on his. 

She pulled him to their bedroom, the bedroom that Jake was glad he was no longer sleeping in because he wasn’t sure how he could sleep next to her in that bed with this memory behind his eyelids. He laughed gently as she guided him to the bed. Her lips moved down to his neck as she worked on unbuckling his belt. _I thought you were sleeping, Ames_.

_You woke me up, you have to tire me out._ He hummed happily as she trailed her kisses lower. He watched as the memory played out in front of him. The moonlight shining through the blinds, leaving stripes of pale blue light across her skin. The way she guided his hands to exactly where she wanted them before gripping onto the headboard and buckling down on him. The way he trailed kisses across her back and her neck when they were finished, the way she said that she loved him and he easily reciprocated, pressing kisses into the palm of her hand before they drifted off together, all tangled up and exhausted and _in love_. 

It had been a long day for more than just Amy, he realized as he fell back on his pillow. But unfortunately, it didn’t seem like he was going to be getting much sleep. _Again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hennnnnyways,
> 
> how are you liking formatting of this fic? I feel like I'm doing it differently than hygim and basically every chapter starts with a day and ends with a night with a few weeks or so between each chapter. Did you like having Amy and Teddy get together in the last chapter and having the relationship already ending by this chapter? Or was that too quick for that storyline? 
> 
> I'm just looking for thoughts and opinions, let a girl knooooow. 
> 
> Also I'm graduating like two weeks and I'm hoping to be a lil more active here after that. ¨̮ 
> 
> alright ily thanks!


	9. The Sweetest Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title from Girls Freak Me Out by The Summer Set.
> 
> _She's the sweetest,_   
_The sweetest thing, but_   
_I know she's no good for me._   
_Gonna take you home,_   
_And take off your clothes._   
_Baby, I'm nothing but bad news,_   
_Nothing but bad news._
> 
> (((((((do you see where this chapter is going???))))))
> 
> (((((((((((it's smut)))))))))))))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of things happen in this chapter so! That's a thing. 
> 
> Have fun!
> 
> I'm going to sleep I should not even be awake right now somebody tell me I'm stupid

“I’m sorry, he did _what?”_

“Rosa, it’s fine-”

She interrupted Amy again. “That’s _not_ fine. I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

“I told you I noticed something weird about the guy,” Jake shrugged his shoulders. “Guess it wasn’t just that I was-” He trailed off, looking up at Amy, who was waiting for him to finish. Rosa raised her eyebrows in amusement. “Guess I was right,” he finished, running his fingers through his hair and turning back to his desk to pretend to do some work. 

“He better hope he isn’t stupid enough to run into me anywhere.”

Charles walked out of the evidence room. “Who are you talking about?” 

“You,” Rosa offered quickly, eyes flickering between Amy and Jake. She was still the only one who knew about the break up, and she was being a good friend and intending on keeping it that way. 

“No,” Amy cut her off when she saw Charles’s exasperated expression. “She’s talking about Teddy.” 

Charles walked further into the bullpen cautiously. “I’m sorry… Teddy _Wells_?” Jake and Amy both nodded. “Teddy Wells like… Your ex-boyfriend?” He waited while Amy nodded again. “Why are we talking about him…?” 

Jake and Amy exchanged looks, silently deciding that Jake should break the news to Charles. “Well… You might want to sit down for this, buddy.” 

“No. Nope, I’m gonna stand. Is something wrong? Did something happen?” 

“You could say that, I guess…” Jake cleared his throat and glanced over toward Rosa and Amy again. “Uh, Ames… Amy and I broke up.”

“You did _what!?”_ He stopped long enough for Jake to open his mouth to speak, but then was immediately talking again. “No. _No!_ That doesn’t make any sense. You’re America’s _dream couple._ You can’t… You can’t break up.” He put his hands on his head, emanating stress. “What does that have to do with Teddy?” 

“I went on a few dates with him-”

“I’m sorry, you broke up with Jake and then went on a few dates with _Teddy?_ That’s like, the biggest downgrade of your life, _Santiago_.”

“Charles-”

“No, _Jacob_. I’m mad at you, too. How could you break up with her? She’s perfect for you. You’re the perfect couple.” 

“We broke up with _each other_.” Jake corrected. “We were having a really hard time as a couple. Haven’t you noticed that we’ve been fighting less?” 

Charles thought for a moment. “Yeah, but I thought that was because you were falling _in love_, not because you _broke up._”

Amy looked at Jake for a moment before replying. “We’ve been doing really well as friends.” Jake smiled at her. He was sad, and he hoped he was masking it better to her than he was to himself. 

Charles scoffed. “If you’re just friends, what’s the _point?”_

“The point of what?” Amy asked.

“The point of _anything?_ Tell them this is the biggest mistake of their lives, Rosa. Tell them.” 

“It’s not my place,” Rosa replied. “If they don’t work together, they don’t have to be together.” 

Charles groaned. “You’re _no help._ Nobody speak to me.”

“Charles-”

“I said _nobody speak to me!”_

Jake, Amy, and Rosa all exchanged looks quietly, all shrugging or putting their hands up like they didn’t know what to do. Then they all just went back to their work silently. 

Jake had _a lot_ to think about. _Was this_ the biggest mistake of his life? He was starting to think that maybe Charles was right. He had feelings for Amy. Undeniably, undoubtedly. But every time he sort of got up the nerve to say that to her, she said something or something happened that had him slamming on his brakes. 

Today, it was _we’ve been doing really well as friends._ And it was the third day in a row that he had found a reason not to tell her about his feelings. What was he _waiting for_? 

He knew the answer. He was waiting for a definitive sign that she felt the same way. He was afraid of rejection, especially from her. She was his _wife_. Things had worked so well between them before, and whether he had all those memories or not, he wanted what they had in the pictures. What if he told her about feelings that she didn’t reciprocate? What if he scared her off? What if he made a move too soon and everything came crashing down? They’d never make it back to where they were if he fucked things up now. Or worse, what if they tried again and they _didn’t_ have what they had before? What if it was just different this time around?

Jake tore himself away from his thoughts just in time to catch the end of Amy and Rosa’s conversation. 

“So we’re going to have to head to that electronics store on Fifth. You ready?”

Amy collected a few things from her desk. “Yeah, I’m good. Let’s go.” 

He watched as they walked onto the elevator, then stared for a few extra seconds after the doors shut. 

“I see right through you.”

Jake turned around. “What?”

Charles nodded. “I’ve seen you in this same spot before. You waited until Teddy asked her out, and then you were all heartbroken because she was going on a date with him instead of you.” 

Jake shook his head. “That’s not… And she isn’t going to be going on any more dates with Teddy, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Maybe not with Teddy, but she’ll find _some_one. If you don’t tell her how you feel, it’ll never be you.” 

He shook his head again, avoiding Charles’s eyes. “What if she doesn’t feel the same way?” 

“What if she _does_?” 

So Jake decided again that he was going to tell her. Charles was right. What if she _did_ feel the same way? He wouldn’t know if he didn’t take the risk and ask. For what felt like the hundredth time, he was trying to figure out how to bring it up. Should he just blurt it out over dinner? Would it be better to put some thought into it and plan it out, or just wing it and say what’s on his mind? What if he said something stupid?

But when she got home, she almost immediately made a comment about how she thought it went well with Charles and she was glad that they finally told him, because this is how things were now and they didn’t have to pretend to be in love with each other. 

He laughed uncomfortably. Yeah. They wouldn’t want to have to _pretend._ How exhausting. 

And that’s how he decided, once again, that he was _not_ going to tell her. 

He hoped that it would come up on its own, that they’d kiss, that they’d fall for each other somehow and everything would just fall into place. But before he knew it, ten days had passed and he still hadn’t told her. They hadn’t had another moment like they had in her parents’ bathroom. They hadn’t had any serious talks about their relationship or their future. In fact, it seemed like their interactions were getting less and less personal as the days went on. 

He was out grabbing lunch while he thought about all of this. Between work and this situation, he barely had any time when he _wasn’t_ in deep thought, trying to piece something together. He wasn’t even sure what he was thinking about when he bumped into the woman. 

Well, bumped wasn’t really the right word. To be more accurate, he _slammed_ into someone with his shoulder while he was walking. Or maybe she slammed into him? He wasn’t quite sure, because they were both walking pretty quickly. She dropped the bag she was holding, spilling a few pens and a tube of lipstick out of it. 

“I’m _so_ sorry,” he began as he bent down and collected all of her items. “Are you-” He grabbed her bag and stood back up, getting a good look at her for the first time. “- uh… _Really_ pretty...” 

“What?” She asked. 

Jake stammered. “I, uh… I don’t know. You- I’m sorry. For bumping into you and-”

“Jake?” She asked, looking at him in a very strange way. 

He blinked slowly. “Do we… know each other?” 

She blinked angrily at him and began pulling the items out of his hands and stuffing them into her bag. 

“Wait, wait. You- I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.” She rolled her eyes. He pointed at his head quickly. “Car accident. Brain injury, amnesia, all that. I’m really sorry.” 

She hesitated for a moment, then turned to face him again. “You have amnesia?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, they say it’s like… really rare, I guess.” 

She stared at him for a moment, seemingly assessing him. “Do you want to grab lunch with me?” 

He looked around the little cafe they were in, then shrugged. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

\--

They were seated at a table together near the window. She smiled gently at him, squinting for a moment as she adjusted to the sun in her face. 

“I’m Sophia.” She laughed, and he couldn’t quite place the emotion behind it, but she didn’t exactly sound _happy_. “We dated. Before you and Amy. How is Amy, by the way?” 

Jake took a deep breath, then exhaled long and slow. “Amy. She’s…” He sighed again. 

“She’s not handling the amnesia well?” 

He shrugged. “I mean, it’s pretty hard to deal with. With both of us forgetting-”

“Wait, _both of you?_ You both have amnesia?” Her eyebrows drew together as she looked at him. 

He laughed. “Oh, yeah. Guess I forgot to mention that part. Even more rare. Some might say we’re _lucky_.” He could almost taste the acidity in his voice. Things weren’t great, but he really didn’t need to be dumping all that on Sophia. He forced a tight-lipped smile, looking down at the table.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” She looked at him earnestly. Her smile put him at ease, and this time his responding grin felt a little more natural. 

“I don’t know. There’s not much to talk about, I guess. We were having a really hard time… She doesn’t even remember meeting me. So I guess it’s like starting over from the beginning.” 

“But you remember meeting her?” 

“That’s all I remember. The first day she started at the nine-nine. Convenient, I guess.” 

Sophia shook her head. “No, it makes sense.” He quirked an eyebrow at her and she laughed softly. “Just… Of course you wouldn’t forget Amy.” 

They paused their conversation while they ordered their food, but Jake couldn’t help but wonder what exactly she meant by that. When the server walked away, he was going to ask, but she started talking before he could.

“So you said you _were_ having a hard time. Is it easier now?” 

He shook his head quickly. “No. We’re… I’m-” He sighed. “I’m sorry, I feel like I don’t even know you and here I am just dumping all this on you.” 

“What do you want to know about me?” 

He hesitated for a moment. “Can I ask why we broke up?” 

She sighed, then started playing with her straw. “It was a variety of things, I think. I broke up with you.” 

He nodded. “I mean, I assumed.” 

She rolled her eyes. “You would’ve broken up with me first if you weren’t so dumb.” His eyebrows scrunched together as he stared at the table, but he didn’t say anything. “We weren’t really a good fit for each other. Our jobs… I’m a public defender-”

“_Ugh_, you are? Oh my god, that makes so much more sense now.” 

She rolled her eyes again. “We connected on surface-level stuff. I love Die Hard, we like some of the same foods. But…” She shrugged. “And then there was Amy.” 

Jake raised an eyebrow again. “Then there was Amy?” 

Sophia nodded, looking away from him. “You had feelings for her. The whole time we were dating, I think.” 

He shook his head and looked out the window. They were both silent for a few moments. “I’m really sorry, Sophia.” 

She shrugged. “I mean, it’s fine. That was a few years ago. I’m engaged, now. Things probably could have ended better between us, but there was… Just a lot of stuff that isn’t really important right now. And I was hurt because of things that I’d noticed but I was too stubborn to actually bring those things up to you and talk about the problems like an adult, so…” She shrugged again. “I’m sorry. Even though you don’t remember, I’m sorry for the way things ended. We both deserved better.” 

He nodded, eyes set on the table. He looked up at her slowly. “Well, I’m really glad that you found it, Sophia. Better, I mean.” 

She smiled sadly at him. “Look, whatever’s going on with you and Amy? I’m sure you’re going to figure it all out.” 

He laughed stalely. “Yeah? What makes you so sure?” 

She waited until he met her eyes again, then she shrugged. “Because a world where you and Amy don’t end up together doesn’t make sense.” 

He smiled at her, and when their food arrived, they ate mostly quietly. She shared a few stories about her life, a few memories from their relationship. She talked about her fiance, a man who was as ambitious as she was. When they got ready to leave, she hugged him. 

“Listen, Jake? Everything’s gonna work out.” 

He nodded at her. He watched from his seat as she turned to give him a little wave before walking out. 

He had a _lot_ to think about.

_A world where he and Amy don’t end up together doesn’t make sense._ Not only that, but Sophia saying that she was too stubborn to bring things up and talk about their problems like adults. Was he making that same mistake with Amy? 

If Sophia was right… He needed to tell Amy how he was feeling. Right? He _had_ to. 

He thought about it all on his way home. How was he going to tell her? He couldn’t let the fear of how she would respond dictate his choices anymore. She needed to know how he was feeling. Maybe that would change things. Maybe she _did_ feel the same way, but they just hadn’t had an opportunity to talk about all of it. 

But when he walked in the door, he realized two things. The first was that telling her would have to wait. The second realization was that she was going to _kill him_, because he forgot all about the NYPD banquet that they were attending that night. When he walked in the door, Amy’s hair was half curled. She had on one of his flannels, buttons almost all the way done. She was looking at him, anything but amusement on her face. 

“_Where_ have you been? You said you were going to come home at three to get ready.” She crossed her arms over her chest. 

“I’m so sorry, Ames. I ran into someone and got caught up, I-” He loosened his tie and began working at his buttons. “I’ll get in the shower now.” He walked past her, pulling at the fabric of the shirt she was wearing. “Is that my shirt?” 

“Yeah, I needed a button-up shirt so I didn’t mess up my hair when I was done curling it…” She turned to watch him as he walked to the bathroom. 

To be fair, he only tried for a second, but he couldn’t wipe the smirk off of his face. “Uh-huh. What about your pink shirt? Or the one with the flowers? Those have buttons.”

“This one was on the back of the chair, so I just put it on real quick,” she said with a shrug, looking like she was trying pretty hard to be nonchalant. She only sounded a _little_ defensive. When he laughed, she muttered a quiet,_”Shut up_.” She rolled her eyes at the little _mmmmhm_ sound he made. “Don’t lock the bathroom door, I need to finish my hair!”

\--

She walked out of her bedroom, not even noticing him sitting quietly in the living room. Her hair was all finished now, her lipstick done perfectly. Her black dress was sensible. Simple, but beautiful. It was floor length, with a slit that went up to about her mid-thigh. 

“Wow,” he muttered softly. 

She turned to look at him, self-conscious and defensive. “What?” 

He stared at her for a moment, a look she couldn’t quite identify on his face. He shrugged. “You look really pretty.” She furrowed her eyebrows, and he began trying to talk his statement backward. “I mean, you know, I’m just so used to seeing you at work, and you’re badass and professional and… Not that you don’t look professional now, you just… I’ve never seen you like… dressed up?” 

She laughed quietly. “Thanks. But I could still kick your ass if I needed to, though.” 

He nodded. “I don’t doubt that. But the real target is Teddy, right?” 

She huffed. “Don’t remind me. You ready?” 

He stood up and walked toward her, holding his tie helplessly in his hands. He pulled at his suit jacket and gestured toward his clothes, sighing deeply. “This tie Holt gave me is different than the ones I wear to work. I don’t know why, it’s the material, or it’s the…” He trailed off, inspecting the tie closely. “Anyway, I can’t get the stupid thing tied. Do you think he’ll notice if I just wear a different tie?” 

Amy took the tie from him, inspecting it just as he was. “Do you want me to just help you tie it?” 

He hesitated for a moment, looking down at her and sort of swaying forward as he rocked from his heel to his toe, like an embarrassed child. He shrugged. “If you don’t mind.” 

She smiled tightly and draped the tie over her own shoulder so that she could flip up the collar on his shirt and snake the tie around his neck. She tried to ignore his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. It only took her a moment to get it tied, then she was flipping his collar down and adjusting the tie, pulling at the knot and stepping back to admire her work. 

He turned to a mirror in their living room and inspected it, too. “I don’t know how you’re so good at this.”

“I’m good at everything,” she replied automatically, her eyebrows raised teasingly. 

He scoffed. “Everything except being being humble.” 

She scoffed back. “C’mon. I’m _so_ humble.” 

His head tipped back as he laughed at her. “Yeah, the _most_ humblest.”

He tried his hardest to act annoyed when she stared at him as they sat in the car. She had the keys in the ignition, but she hadn’t turned them yet. He fought the corners of his lips as they attempted to twitch into a smile as she explained to him that _most humblest_ was _not_ grammatically correct.

But he knew that. 

That’s exactly why he said it. 

\--

He realized, as she gratefully reached for the glass of wine that a server poured, that he had never _really_ seen her drink. She’d had a beer or two on a few different occasions, but she’d never _really_ drank around him. She’d been eyeing the open bar since they walked through the doors, arms linked together and putting on their best _we’re a couple and everything’s normal_ faces. 

There were so many people there that they didn’t really remember, and they’d both agreed prior to going to this banquet that the best way to handle it (to avoid talking about nothing _but_ the accident and the amnesia) would be to pretend it never happened. They’d had a separate discussion with the squad, explaining that they’d be looking _extra_ coupley at the event, to which Charles raised his eyebrows, sighed longingly, and muttered something about a _typical fake-dating trope._ They all looked at him with confused glances, but he continued, unperturbed. _They always end up together in the end._

Their table was made up of the rest of the squad, which Jake thought would’ve made things a little bit easier for them. He was feeling a bit overwhelmed at the sea of people around them, and he could tell by the way that Amy was glancing between faces in the crowd, unable to keep her attention in one place for too long, that she was feeling the same way. She sipped at her glass of wine every couple minutes, reminding Jake that he, too, should get a drink. 

“Hey, you want anything from the bar, babe?” He smiled politely, brushing his fingers against her forearm. 

She looked down at his hand for a moment, then smiled back at him. “Actually, yeah. Maybe I should just come with you.” 

Jake stood and reached his arm out for her to grab onto, and they pushed through the crowd together, hoping to go unnoticed. As soon as they were away from the group, he was trying his hardest to ease the tension and get her to laugh. 

He tucked his head closer to hers so she could hear him over the crowd. “Want to bet on whether or not Scully asks for slut sauce when dinner is served?” 

She laughed quietly. “As if he didn’t bring his own with him?” 

Jake made a disgusted sound at the back of his throat. Amy followed his gaze, then pulled on his arm. He looked down at her questioning glance, clearly unsure about what the stem of his problem was. “Vulture. 11 o’clock.” 

Amy looked back up, quickly locating the man Jake was talking about. He was mid-story, standing with two bored-looking women. Even from a distance, Jake could tell he was drawing out his words in an unnecessary way and the woman to his left looked like she was on the verge of rolling her eyes. 

“It’s fine.” Jake said quietly, more to himself than to Amy. “Just keep your head down and maybe we can get past him without getting his attention.” 

She nodded, and they walked past quickly. They had almost made it past him when Jake froze at his voice. 

“Hey, dummies!” Jake groaned quietly, but they kept walking. “Santiago, Peralta, I’m talking to you! What are you dummies up to?” 

Jake spun on his heel and smiled, wide and fake, at the man. “Pembroke, _hi_! How are you doing?”

The man eyed the two of them carefully as he approached, completely ignoring Jake’s question. “How was your wedding, wieners?” 

“Uh, good.” Amy replied quickly. “Great.”

“Toit.” Jake added. 

“The toitest,” Amy added, squeezing his arm lightly. He tried not to divert his attention away from Pembroke.

The Vulture laughed. “That can’t be true. After I vultured your venue and then you had that whole bomb thing? Your wedding was lame.” 

Jake shrugged, moving his hand to cover Amy’s on his arm. “I would’ve married her in a dumpster.” She smiled at him, leaning her head on his shoulder. 

“Good thing, because you basically _did_. The streets of New York, giant dumpster.” He shifted his hands together as though the two things were synonymous. 

“Not a problematic thought for a high ranking NYPD officer to have,” Jake mumbled under his breath. 

Amy let go of his arm, moving to hold onto his hand instead. “Our wedding was perfect. It’s something I’ll never forget.” 

Jake laughed, then they shared a knowing look before the Vulture made his own disgusted sound. 

“I was gonna go get another drink, but I think I’ll just go throw up the three I’ve already had. You guys are gross. Later, wieners.” 

They watched him walk away, and Amy promptly unlaced her fingers with Jake’s and returned her grip to his bicep. “What’s that guy’s deal?” 

“He’s the literal worst,” Jake grumbled, pulling her with him toward the bar. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard an adult human say ‘wieners’ twice in one conversation,” she commented quietly. Jake snorted and continued toward the bar. 

They were intercepted two more times before they hit the bar, once by an old partner of Amy’s and once by a man that neither of them recognized, but who addressed them both by name and asked _how’s the baby doing?_ They both stumbled over that answer, momentarily unsure if they had a baby and had somehow missed that very important detail, before Amy coolly replied with _you must be thinking of someone else, no babies for us_ yet. 

Jake nudged her in the side as they finally broke away from the man. “Good addition, with the _yet_.” He nudged her again when she laughed and elbowed him back. He pulled her to the side as they stepped into the line at the counter. “Hey, what if we turn this into a game?” 

“A game? What do you mean?” 

He shrugged. “I was just thinking, your ‘no baby yet’ comment gave me the idea. What if we see who’s best at this pretend relationship?”

She leaned into his side and looked up at him dreamily, like she was already trying to one-up him before she even knew the stakes of the game. His stomach flipped at the expression. _It was just for the game._

“See who’s best?” She asked. 

He laughed softly. “Yeah. Just for fun. Ya’know, we have to make it believable for everybody anyway, right? Might as well have some fun with it.” 

She turned away from him for a moment, looking all around the room full of people. When she looked back at him, she ran her hand up his chest. “I _love_ that idea, babe.” 

“Hey, next? You two want drinks, or what?” The bartender called out, a twinge of annoyance in his voice. 

Amy turned to face him, her hand staying firmly planted on Jake’s chest. “Yeah, I’ll have a whiskey, please.” 

“Make that two whiskeys, please,” Jake echoed, looking down at her with adoration. 

“You two are cute,” the bartender commented. He flashed a smile, but he looked bored. He passed their drinks over, then pushed the tip jar closer to them. 

Jake dropped a few dollars into the jar. He wound his free hand around her waist, fingers grazing her hip through the thin fabric of her dress, as they made their way back toward the table. 

They dodged knowing glances from Charles and Rosa throughout the night and endured teasing from the rest of the squad. Between that, they were fielding questions from strangers and acquaintances alike. While at the table, they had a little help from their friends. Rosa would nudge Amy and whisper who the new person at the table was, and she would steer the conversation. Jake was pretty good about following her leads. 

He didn’t think he’d had that much to drink, but somehow he found himself off to the side with Amy, feeling a little less than sober. He was leaning against the wall, listening to her tell a story that, despite the warmth and fuzziness he was feeling, he was having no trouble following. 

She tipped her head in toward his. Her quiet laughter brush against his lips. He could taste the alcohol on her breath, the same flavor tingling against his own tongue, yet he still felt the strongest urge to drink the very taste straight from her lips. She laughed again, pulling him from his thoughts. 

“Jake, what are you looking at?” 

Her eyes twinkled as she looked up at him, and of course he’d noticed how beautiful she was at least a hundred times, but something felt different tonight. Maybe it was the lighting, the way it shined off her hair that she’d spent an hour curling until it was _just_ perfect. Maybe it was the deep red staining her lips, a combination of her lipstick and the glass of merlot she’d had when they arrived. Maybe it was the way he’d watched first hand as her nerves settled until she was standing in front of him, quietly confident in herself in a way he’d never really seen before. 

Maybe it was more than that. Maybe it was his hand glued to her hip because he had an excuse to be touching her. Maybe it was her soft laughter when she tipped her head in toward his neck, a sound meant only for him after he’d made some stupid joke, the two-hundredth one as he desperately tried to keep her laughing. Maybe it was that she was always this beautiful, but now he _knew_ her. It wasn’t just surface-level beauty anymore. It was expressions that he could anticipate and encourage. It was the feelings he associated with every little thing she did. 

So when she started swaying her hips, something he immediately noticed due to the hand that was still placed there, he smiled at her. 

“You wanna dance?” 

She made a face at him. “I don’t think you want that.” He quirked an eyebrow at her, and she laughed quietly. “I’m _bad_.”

He gasped, raising his hand to his mouth dramatically. “Amy Santiago??? Bad at something? I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

She raised her eyebrows at him knowingly and took his hand in hers, leading him to the dance floor. She turned to look at him. “Okay. So for you to get the full experience, you’re going to have to stand back a little bit.”

He laughed, but took a step back, gesturing to her that the floor was hers. Then he watched as she took a deep breath and did what he was sure was _definitely_ the worst dancing he had ever seen. It was like she was dancing to a completely different song. Her elbows flailed all about. She was essentially the poster-child for why all middle school dances should be cancelled. 

When she finished, she looked up at him with a ridiculous smile, then took a bow. He clapped for her, joining her in her laughter as he did. 

“So? You believe me now?” 

“I guess we found the one thing you’re bad at, huh?” He teased, laughing as she stuck her tongue out at him. “You want me to teach you?”

“Teach me? To dance?” 

He took her hand and pulled her back onto the floor, guiding her hands into place before returning his to her waist. “I mean, there isn’t going to be as much elbow-action as you’re used to, but…” 

He guided her along with him, keeping in step with the music. After a few moments of dancing and bashfully avoiding his eyes, she giggled. “You’re actually kind of good at this.”

He gasped, careful to not let go of her. He was afraid that if he did, she might trip or otherwise stumble over. “Was that a compliment?” 

She shook her head at him, trying her hardest to look stern, but her laughter continued bubbling out. “Don’t worry, Jake. It was back-handed.” 

“Hey, I’ll take what I can get.” 

She laughed again, but this time, she closed the short distance between them. She buried her head in his chest, keeping her arms draped loosely around his neck. He tightened his grip on her waist, chuckling as she inhaled deeply. 

“You smell so _good_,” she hummed, the sound rumbling against his chest. 

He gasped again, then regretted it immediately when she pulled her head away to look at him. “Was that _two_ compliments? I should get you drunk more often.” 

She rolled her eyes at him and he had _no_ time to process what was happening before her lips were on his. It was brief and gentle, her soft lips pressing against his just long enough to ruin any chance he had at maintaining a train of thought for the next ten minutes. 

She giggled again. “Just trying to shut you up.” 

His eyes travelled over her face slowly. “You think it’ll work?”

A smile crept across her lips. “Should I try again?” 

They were leaning into one another when Rosa cut into the middle of them. 

“_Rosa_,” Charles hissed from the side. “They were about to _kiss_.”

“They were _not_. Amy, c’mon. I need another drink, you want one?” 

Amy eyed Rosa carefully, then glanced over at Jake. “Uh… Sure. You want anything, babe?” 

Jake smiled tightly, looking between the three of them carefully. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.” 

Rosa practically dragged Amy away, and Jake turned toward Charles quickly. “What was that?” 

“That?” Charles laughed uncomfortably. “Oh, that was nothing. Just Rosa being weird.” 

Jake narrowed his eyes at his friend. “Look, maybe I don’t have a memory, but I can still figure out when you two are being weird.” Charles stared at Jake, quickly coming close to cracking under his intense eye contact. “_Boyle…_”

“_Okay_,” Charles whined. “We made a bet about whether or not you two would end up together tonight. Rosa thinks you won’t, but I’m _sure_ you will.” He rolled his eyes. “And you were _about_ to kiss, but Rosa interrupted you.”

“We weren’t about to kiss,” Jake corrected, staring off at the twinkling lights strung between the chandeliers. 

Charles scoffed. “_Please_. I saw that little peck a minute ago, and while I’m _over the moon_ about it--I want all the details later, by the way--I’ve seen a real Peraltiago kiss and _that_? That wasn’t it.”

“_Peraltiago?_” Jake shook his head. “Look, it wasn’t going to be-”

“It _was_. I saw the way you were looking at her. I don’t know what you were talking about, but I have _eyes_, Jake.”

“We’re just pretending, Charles. This is why we talked to you about all of this before tonight. I didn’t want you to see this and get your hopes up. It’s all just a show to trick everyone into believing that we’re still together so we don’t have to talk about why we aren’t.” Jake waved Charles off with his hand. 

Charles scrunched up his eyebrows. “The only one you’re fooling is yourself.” 

“You’re being so _weird_,” Amy muttered to Rosa as they approached.

“Thank you!” Jake shouted, gesturing to Rosa before gratefully accepting the drink Amy handed him. He took a big gulp, wincing a little and receiving an eye roll from Rosa. He chuckled. “Just because we’re a _normal married couple,_ being all cute and coupley.”

“Yeah!” Amy’s voice went up an octave to match his higher pitch. “Everything’s normal guys. We’re just being _normal_.” 

Amy handed Jake her drink, then grabbed Rosa’s hand. She dragged her towards the dance floor, already swinging her elbows. Rosa shook her head, but laughed and went along with Amy. Jake watched them for a moment, his smile spreading across his face. 

He turned to look at Charles and immediately wiped the smile off of his face. He cleared his throat and shook his head, then looked back at Amy and Rosa with a blank expression. 

“You’re only fooling yourself,” Charles repeated. “And you’re not even doing it well.”

\--

After a few more laps around the room, a few more drinks, and a remark from Holt about how his tie choice was superb, things were starting to wind down a little bit. Jake looked around and noticed that many of the chairs that had once been full were now emptying. They all sat patiently through the (it had to have been a million, not just _three_, like Amy insisted) painstaking speeches. 

As the speeches dwindled down and more people left, Amy looked over at Jake. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” She bit her lip, trying to stifle the smile that she couldn’t suppress. 

He tilted his head. “Like what?” She didn’t say anything for a moment, so he laughed quietly. “What, the game getting a little too real for you?” 

Her smile faded a little as she looked at him a little more seriously. She glanced around at everyone else at the table to make sure they were all still absorbed in their own conversations before she leaned in a little closer to him. “You’re looking at me the way you _always_ do.” 

He blinked at her for a moment, but before he had time to collect himself and respond, Amy caught a part of Rosa’s conversation with Holt about something Amy had said during one of the speeches.

“I was just _saying_,” she bobbed her head to the side as she spoke, “that there’s a reason I made sergeant. I don’t have to have the memories to know that the reason is because I’m the best.” 

“You become sergeant by taking a test,” Rosa reminded. “That has nothing to do with how great you are. It’s about how good of a test-taker you are.” 

“I took that test _so well_,” she nodded her head toward Rosa. “I bet I even took it better than _you_.” Her last sentence was punctuated with a finger jab in Holt’s direction. 

“Okay, Ames, maybe we like, get ready to go home now,” Jake suggested, smiling uncomfortably toward Holt. 

“No, let’s compare scores, _Captain._ And then I can beat you when I take the exam to become captain, too.”

Rosa laughed. “Yeah, Cap. Let’s compare scores.” 

“Ames, Ames,” Jake murmured, reaching out and hesitantly grabbing her hand. “C’mon, let’s go.”

She looked at him, letting her eyes linger for a moment before glancing back toward Rosa and Holt. Jake squeezed her hand, and she turned back to look at him. 

“Please?” 

She hummed quietly, a sound of reluctant agreement. “Fine.” 

“_Yes_!” Charles exclaimed. Rosa scoffed, and Amy looked between them slowly. 

“Okay guys, have a good night, this was fun, you’re the best, love you, bye!” Jake called toward them as he was already pulling Amy with him toward the door. 

She laughed as she ran to keep up with him. “What was that?” 

He made a face at her, raising his eyebrows incredulously. “What was what?” 

She shook her head, continuing to giggle. “That… with Charles?”

Jake held his arm up to a cab driver going by, signalling them to stop. As the car rolled to a stop, Jake pulled open the door and held it for her. She waited a moment, looking at him expectantly. He sighed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ames.” 

She rolled her eyes and breathed another quiet laugh, but ducked under his arm to slide into the car. He slid in next to her, closing the door and directing the driver on where to go before turning back toward her silent, questioning stare. 

He smiled at her as he leaned his head back on the seat. “What?” 

“What was it?” Her eyes glimmered in the dark of the car, every passing shadow presenting her in a different, mesmerizing image. 

He raised his eyebrows, then squeezed his eyes shut, careful to maintain the smile that had been on his lips for almost the entire night. When he opened his eyes again, he almost laughed at how intensely she was staring at him. For a moment, he thought about telling her about the bet between Rosa and Charles, but then another thought popped into his head. 

Maybe this was the moment. _The_ moment, the one where he should confess his feelings to her. Maybe all he needed was a little bit of alcohol to calm his nerves, maybe he needed this game to remind him that this was definitely what he wanted. He didn’t want to give up a future full of nights like tonight, nights where he and Amy were teasing each other, fielding jabs and questions from their friends and strangers as a _team_.

They were a _great_ team. He wanted this. He wanted _her._

“Ames-”

“Does Charles think we’re gonna fuck?” 

Jake choked on his words, taking time to cough, then clear his throat. He shook his head at her. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Is that what this is about? Does Charles think we’re gonna go home and sleep together because we were acting so much like a couple tonight?” 

Jake took a deep breath, already beginning to try and laugh off the nerves that had somehow crept back up on him. “How did you know?” 

Amy gasped. “I knew it! God, I thought talking to him beforehand would have helped.” 

“I keep telling you, Ames,” Jake turned on his side so he was facing her more fully, “he’s relentless. He and Rosa have a bet on whether or not we’ll, uh…” He shook his head again, running his fingers through his hair. “I told him it’s not gonna happen.” 

He was looking down, but he was surprised by her silence. When he looked back up at her, she looked confused. 

“Why?” 

Jake tilted his head to the side. “Why… what?” 

“Why did you tell him it wasn’t going to happen?” 

He coughed lightly again, shifting uncomfortably. “Because it’s… _not_ going to happen?” 

The statement sounded much more like a question than he had planned. 

“But… why?” 

Why was she _looking at him like that?_ Why was it suddenly feeling so much harder to breathe? Would he get in trouble if he opened the car door and discreetly hopped out while they were driving? Why hadn’t he said anything yet?

“Because I’m… not, like… _attracted_ to you… like that?” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, like… when I look at you, all I see is clothes hanging off of a genderless blob…”

She raised her eyebrows, then leaned in _just_ a little closer. The movement was so miniscule that he wouldn’t have normally even noticed, except that he was so fixated on every tiny movement she was making. 

“Jake…” She laughed softly, and when she adjusted to brush her hair off of her shoulder, she slowly dragged her fingers across her collarbone. “_C’mon…_” 

He laughed, but the sound was empty. He could feel that his voice was going to come out a little higher than he wanted, and he overcorrected a little when he spoke. “I’m…” He stopped, clearing his throat _again_ and bringing his voice back to its normal tenor. “I’m sorry, Amy, I just don’t see you that way.” 

“_Jake_,” she repeated, looking at him as if that was the least plausible theory in the world. Which, if he was being honest, it _was_, but he still hadn’t expected her to be quite so confident, so much so that she was _continuing_ to argue about it.

She was inching closer to him on the seat when they arrived at their apartment. 

“_O_kay, and that’s our stop,” Jake began frantically, pulling out his wallet and sliding as far away from Amy as he could get. He paid the man and immediately got out of the car, waiting for Amy to exit before shutting the door. 

He contemplated his next moves. He _could_ turn and run down the street, face all this another time. Amy might look down on that choice… He glanced down the road, then looked down at the dress shoes on his feet. He rolled his eyes at himself for even thinking about it. 

He would just go inside. He was going to face the problem head on, bring things up _like an adult_, like Sophia said. He didn’t want to make mistakes with Amy. 

So he ignored her subdued laughter and walked up the steps, unlocking the door and holding it open for her to walk through. 

After she walked in, she turned back to face him. She laughed quietly as he shut the door, and even in the dim light, he could feel her eyes piercing against him. “Jake, it’s fine. You don’t have to pretend like you’re not.” 

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “I’m not pretending. I’m just not attracted to you like that.” 

She laughed again, louder now. “The first thing you said to me was about how pretty you thought I was.” 

He nodded. “Yes. You’re _beautiful_. You can think someone is attractive without also being attracted _to_ them.” 

Why was he pushing so hard against this? He _was_ attracted to her. He had been attracted to her from the second he laid eyes on her. There was no harm in admitting that. Clearly Amy _knew_ she was attractive, he would just be agreeing with her. 

“Oh, definitely,” she agreed. “I just don’t think that’s what’s happening here.” 

“_Okay_, what do _you_ think is happening here?” 

“Jake, I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes. When you think I’m not paying attention.” She shrugged. “It’s fine. Sometimes you’re the most irritating person that I’ve ever met, but that doesn’t mean I’m not physically attracted to you.” 

He scoffed. “Yeah, you’re doing a great job at making your point here. I definitely like you now,” he said mockingly. He kicked off his shoes, hoping after a beat of silence that she felt bad and was going to change the subject. 

“I’m not _talking_ about liking me. I’m talking about physical attraction.”

“_Which_ I don’t have toward you.” He doubled down, running his fingers through his hair as he turned away. She was silent for a moment, and he thought for a second that he’d actually gotten out of the uncomfortable conversation. 

“So you’re saying that you don’t think about me?” 

He turned to look at her and he hoped that she couldn’t tell that he’d practically just gulped like an old cartoon. He could almost feel his heartbeat picking up speed. “Think about you…?” He trailed off, trying to make sure that he had gotten the correct meaning out of that sentence. 

“Yeah. Ya’know, when you…” She took a step closer to him, eyes flickering over him obviously. He stood his ground, but he could tell that the entire mood had shifted. “I think about _you_,” she said softly, licking her lips after the words left her mouth. 

He shook his head too quickly, but his mouth went dry at her final sentence. “I don’t.” 

She laughed. “Prove it.” 

He cocked his head to the side. “Prove it, how?” 

“Come unzip me.” 

He swallowed thickly and stared at her across the room. She kept his eye contact, unblinking and sure. She really was _so_ beautiful. He, on the other hand, had never been less sure of himself. He took a deep breath and made his way across the room to her, because he hadn’t said no to a single challenge from her yet and tonight would not be the first time that he did.

She pulled her hair out of the way so that he could see her back, then tilted her head to the side. With shaky fingers, he grasped the zipper and tried to shove memories of the last time he’d unzipped a dress for her out of his mind. He failed immediately, locating memories of the way she’d taken a shaky step backward and bumped into him, memories of the curve of her spine leading him to the lace that waited patiently at her hips. He remembered the way the soft skin on her sides felt under his fingers as he pulled the dress back onto her. 

He shook his head lightly, realizing that he had probably been gripping the zipper for longer than should have been acceptable. He tugged lightly and was a little surprised to find that this zipper didn’t give him any problems at all. It ran smoothly down her back, exposing the back of a black, lacy bra, and as the fabric fell lower on her body, revealing that it was part of a matching set. 

He kept his hands on the zipper, the dress resting at her waist, and tried to keep his focus as the dim light fell onto her skin. She let her hair fall against her back and yet again, his mind travelled immediately to tangling his fingers in it. 

Before he had a chance to say anything, she turned to face him. The dress slipped from his hands, falling to her feet. Her chest rose and fell evenly, and he tried his hardest not to notice, not to _keep_ noticing because he could see in her eyes that she noticed every glance he slipped up on. She moved so that they were almost touching and began loosening the knot in his tie. 

His voice was rough as he spoke. “What are…” he cleared his throat. “What are you doing?” 

He had never quite heard the voice that she used next. “I just know how much you hate wearing ties…” She paused, tugging the tie a little harder than necessary and forcing him forward a step. “I thought I’d help you get out of this one.” 

She slowly loosened the knot and dragged the tie off of his neck, letting the fabric drag against her own chest in a way that he was sure was intentional before she dropped it to the floor. Her fingers quickly found more work with his buttons. He felt each breath that she took against his neck and he could feel his own breathing becoming more labored. 

“Ames, you…” He moved his hands to grasp hers, now at the third button. 

“Do you want me to stop?” She asked genuinely, looking at him for approval. He held her eye contact for a moment, then let his hands fall away from hers wordlessly. She waited a moment, then slowly continued her way down his shirt. Once she made it to the second to last button, the shirt fell open on his chest and she immediately began ghosting her lips against his neck. He felt her smile against his skin at his responding shiver. 

She helped to slide the shirt down his shoulders, sprinkling warm, wet kisses further down his neck until she reached his collarbone, moving down to meet the places on his chest where her hands were cautiously exploring. His hands found her waist, where he pulled her against him gently. She broke her lips away from him long enough to laugh softly, and he braced himself for it to all be over. This was all just a joke, just her trying to prove that he was, in fact, attracted to her, which he still wasn’t sure why he denied in the first place.

But it _didn’t_ end. She leaned into his touch and when his hands moved up her sides, he felt goosebumps in his path. He thumbed over the thin lace, and her soft hum in response brought him all the confidence he needed. 

Without even thinking about it, he placed his hands on either side of her face and tilted her head towards him. His lips met hers, and for the first time in their relationship, he wasn’t cautious, wasn’t confused, wasn’t unsure. That familiar peppermint taste hit his tongue, mixed with the slightest hint of the whiskey they’d both been consuming, and _fuck_ he had been sure of a lot of things in his life, but never quite as sure as he was in this moment. 

He was sure that he wanted her. Sure that he was _definitely_ attracted to her. Sure that this felt _right_, even when everything leading up to this had felt so twisty and confusing. He didn’t exactly have his mind about him in a sense that would allow him to think harder about all of this. His fingers were stumbling clumsily with the clasp of her bra and she was making soft sounds into his mouth and it didn’t _matter_ that they fought so much all those weeks ago. It didn’t matter that they argued and joked and teased each other. It didn’t matter that they were technically taking a break from the exhausting reality they lived, where they were trying to repair a relationship that they couldn’t even remember. 

All that mattered was her, standing in front of him, fingers tangling into his hair with the same fervor that his were attacking each strand of hers with. They stumbled together, closer to the bed. She shrugged out of her bra, then gasped softly as he lifted her onto his hips. She wrapped her legs around his waist and moaned softly as he bit her bottom lip, but then she was adjusting, loosening her legs and seemingly wanting to be put down. 

He set her down, cautious again and trying to ignore the panic that was quickly rising within him. Had he done something wrong? Was this moving too quickly? Was he right the first time? This really _was_ just some joke that would have him probably incapable of ever looking at her the same way ever again. 

But as he set her down, she moved closer, pulled him down toward her again. She met his eyes for a moment, brief and intense, before pulling him in for a softer, slower kiss. The only sound in the room was their lips breaking apart as she began to sink down his body, leaving an occasional kiss on her way down. 

His eyes were trained on her as she kneeled in front of him, looking up at him from underneath her eyelashes with a look that was equal parts innocent and sexy. Or maybe slightly more sexy, increasingly less innocent as each second ticked by. He hadn’t realized that he was holding his breath until her fingers slipped underneath his belt, bringing his waist closer to her. She worked to unbuckle his belt, moving quickly, and he honestly couldn’t tell if he wanted her to slow down or move faster. 

She kept his eye contact as she unbuttoned his pants, as she worked them off of his hips and down his thighs and if there was any question prior to this moment about whether or not he was attracted to her, there was definitely no question now. Any proof that she needed was right in front of her, as obvious as could be, and he watched as her eyes moved to assess him, still covered by the navy boxer-briefs that he desperately wanted to join the pile of the rest of his clothes on the floor. 

She gripped him through the fabric, pushing against him and extending her hand up in one long motion. He groaned softly, tipping his head back reflexively. She laughed in response, but repeated the motion a few times, enough to make him lose his train of thought completely. 

“Still sticking with you’re not attracted to me?” She asked softly, toying with his waistband. 

He shook his head, struggling to keep his eyes open as she continuously repeated the motion in a perfect, slow rhythm. She watched through narrowed eyes as he clenched his jaw. He exhaled quietly. “Fuck, Ames.” 

She didn’t remove her hand, but she stopped in her place. “Is this okay? Should I stop?” 

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, hips tipping forward in response to her slight movement. He exhaled sharply, but kept his eyes on her. 

“No. If that’s okay with you.” 

“It’s-” He broke off mid-word to groan softly as she tightened her grip and twisted her wrist again. “God, it’s okay,” he whispered, his resolve quickly crumbling. 

Before he was fully finished with his final word, she was pulling on his waistband, dragging the last piece of fabric to the floor. 

Each movement, every flick of her tongue, was slow and deliberate. She fell into a rhythm quickly, constantly assessing his every reaction and adjusting her movements to replicate the desired response. He knew that she was so smart, but he had never really seen her _learning_ something before. He couldn’t be sure if she was really learning him now, or if this was all information that lay just beneath the surface, only making itself known now that the opportunity had presented itself. 

Reasoning aside, she knew exactly what to do, exactly when to do it to get him whispering under his breath, eyes squeezed shut in bliss. She’d slide him out of her mouth and look up at him, underneath her eyelashes every time, alluring and confident. She’d stroke him in her hand, alternating kisses, all while keeping his eye contact until she got her fill of watching him try to keep his eyes open, then he’d gratefully tip his head back as she’d let her tongue wrap around him again, redirecting her focus. 

He could feel it all getting to be too much. He was gently running his fingers through her hair, doing a _great_ job at not grabbing fistfuls of it even when she did that thing that had his hips involuntarily flexing forward, when he began teetering over the edge.

“Ames… Amy, I’m gonna-”

She pulled her head away quickly, waiting a moment before slowly pumping her hand along his length and pulling long, drawn out groans out of him. 

She laughed from her place on the floor in front of him. “Bet you’ll be thinking about me next time.” 

His laugh was cut short by another involuntary sound. “Shut up and get over here.” His voice was soft, but stern, and it left Amy feeling tingly in all the right places. 

She raised her eyebrows at him, but slowly made her way up his body so that she was standing in front of him again. He leaned down for another kiss, softer than she expected after what she had just been doing.

He deepened the kiss as the seconds went by, and she barely had time to process the change in position before her back was pressed against his chest. He had a hand tucked in the front of her panties, whispering in her ear about how she was _so_ wet for him and she had never really been one for dirty talk, but his voice was definitely doing it for her now. He alternated between kisses and just-gentle-enough bites on that sensitive spot on her neck, and she wondered for all of one second if he knew the spot from muscle memory, or if it had just been a lucky guess. 

He was quickly growing frustrated with the fabric between her legs and she couldn’t remember a time when she was more grateful than when he tugged them off, carefully guiding her right foot out of them before standing back up, supporting her weight as he gripped her inner thigh and returned his fingers to the place where she desperately needed them. 

If she had been thinking clearly, she wouldn’t have wanted him to have the satisfaction of getting her to come undone so quickly. But his voice was still in her ear, still talking her through everything. He was still breathing against her neck, hot and shaky in between kisses. He was somehow finding the perfect intervals for every single movement that he made. He knew exactly when she needed the long fingers inside of her to take a break and focus all of their energy on her clit, knew exactly when during that process to bite that one spot on her neck, knew exactly when to say which words and _how_ and if she wasn’t so wrapped up in him (in every possible way), wasn’t _so_ close to coming for him, it might have irritated her. 

Just as her thighs started to tremble, she felt his lips twitch into that self-satisfied smirk that she had come to know so well. She quickly twisted behind her back so she could grasp him in her hand, distract him. The sound he made resembled more of a growl than anything else, but his words were soft, pleading. 

“Just let me make you come,” he trailed off, voice strangled by a moan as she flicked her wrist. “I just wanna… _Fuck._” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” he held her hips against him as she bucked against his fingers, trying her hardest to keep her focus. “You’re gonna make me come. Just not like _this_.” 

He groaned, adjusting so that he could pull her back in for another kiss. He broke the kiss a few seconds in. “How are you even annoying when I’m fucking you?” 

She laughed and pushed him onto the bed. She crawled up his body slowly, laughing again at the little whine that left him right before she pressed her lips back against his. “You’re not fucking me yet,” she reminded. “And you haven’t _seen_ annoying.” 

“Agree to disagree,” he whispered before taking advantage of their new position to explore the rest of her body. Her whine closely mirrored his from moments before as he circled his tongue around her nipple teasingly. 

She adjusted and dragged him against herself in retaliation, smirking at the way he stopped everything and pulled her closer, sighing against her chest. 

“Everything doesn’t have to be a competition, you know,” he whispered. He resumed placing kisses across her ribs. “But I’m definitely gonna win this one.” 

He pushed her back with a quiet chuckle directed at her gasp, then quickly settled in between her thighs. He pressed a single, gentle kiss against the inside of her thigh and looked up at her, raising his eyebrows teasingly. 

“Mmm, Jake,” she hummed quietly as she looked at him in anticipation, tension in her eyebrows. 

He let his fingers slowly come into play first, finding his same rhythm from a new angle and smirking as her hips began working to meet him with every movement. She was already too distracted to care about the smile his lips pulled into, so he leaned in, a better job in mind for his mouth. 

As soon as his tongue found her, she stopped moving underneath him. She arched her hips closer to him, exhaling with a soft whine that brought the smirk back to his lips. She reached for him, her hands grasping at the back of his neck, fingernails gently scratching at his scalp. He picked up speed, both tongue and fingers, and her fingers locked into his hair. 

He couldn’t control his soft laughter as she began writhing underneath him. He pulled back and laughed against her thigh, biting softly and keeping up his rhythm.

She tugged lightly at his hair. “Get up here,” she commanded, and he wanted to resist, to keep teasing her, but he found himself doing exactly what she said. He crawled up her body, not even stopping to plant kisses across her as the urgency in her voice let him know _exactly_ what she needed from him.

He kissed her deeply, sighing into her mouth as she took him into her hand again. After a moment, she adjusted, positioning him to enter her. He began kissing her neck, exhaling sharply as she pushed forward just enough to cause a little pressure, then pulled away, pumping softly with her hand. She repeated this a few times until he was swearing in between those little bites on her neck. 

“You win,” he whispered roughly. “You win, let me fuck you.” She repeated her same motion again, making sure to add a moan for good measure. “Amy, _please_.” 

She adjusted one last time, hooking her thighs over his, and repositioned him. She propped herself up on her elbows, holding his eye contact as he slowly drew his hips forward. They fell into a symphony of sighs and soft sounds as he held onto her hips, coming back to them regularly. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured. They laughed together as she reached for him, wanting him impossibly closer. Her laugh faded into a moan right before he kissed her. He was tracing his tongue against her lips, his fingers tracing diligently between her legs the first time she called out his name, effectively changing everything. 

He twisted his neck toward the sound, hips thrusting deeper and causing a whole new set of sounds from both of them. After they’d gotten back to their steady rhythm, he chuckled softly, at her reaction, she was sure. She gripped his hair, pulling him in for one last kiss before she pushed him back onto the bed, extricating herself from him so that she could straddle his hips. 

“Have you thought about this?” She asked as she sank down on him slowly, his hips like an anchor that she was readily returning to. 

“Yes,” he answered too quickly. “Yes, I’ve thought about this. So much. So-” He groaned softly. “God, so much.” 

She pressed her palms against his chest, gaining leverage to bounce her hips against him. He loosely placed his hands on her hips, letting her slide between his fingers with every movement. 

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he whispered, snapping his hips up to meet her. His hands explored her body hungrily, offering her heated kisses every time she leaned in until she was trembling on top of him, her soft utterances of his name building until she lost the syllables altogether, muttering unintelligible expletives against his collarbone. 

He gripped onto her hips, carrying her through it until his words were equally lost, both left in an arrangement of shaky breaths, trading unsaid words for soft, unintentional hums of satisfaction. She shifted off of his hips, collapsing into his arms with a sigh. He reflexively wrapped an arm around her, trailing his fingertips across the small of her back as their breathing slowed. 

He pulled the sheet over them, wrapped it around both of them, and continued to let his hand explore her back lazily. Only once their sleepy movements began slowing, when the adrenaline and wave of endorphins had passed, would a tiny little voice of reason creep into his mind. 

Amy lay against Jake’s chest, his heartbeat thumping in her ear, first loud, then slowing into a comforting, rhythmic lull. Her eyes were drifting shut, only fueled by Jake’s comforting touch. She fit against him so perfectly, a thought which Jake marvelled at as he continued tracing the curve of her spine. 

He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know _what_. Instead, he turned his head, pressing a soft kiss against her forehead. She hummed happily, and within a few minutes, he was pretty sure that she was asleep. 

He continued tracing shapes against her skin, just in case, and leaned his head against hers. That was… 

_Wow._

But it _wasn’t_ telling her how he felt about her. It wasn’t sharing his feelings. It wasn’t facing the problem like an adult. It was _great_, but was it good? 

He smiled as she made a sleepy, satisfied sound and snuggled closer into his side.This was a little weird, but nothing about it _felt_ weird. Judging by the deep, slow breaths falling against his neck, she wasn’t feeling too uncomfortable, either. 

He realized after a moment that things were becoming more comfortable for him, too. There was only one thought on his mind as his eyes began drifting shut. 

_I hope it wasn’t a mistake._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was part of the very first idea for this fic and drafts of this chapter were written before I even finished the first chapter. It's been edited like a hundred times for content changes throughout, but I'm excited to have finally gotten to this point because!!! plans are rolling out in a similar way to how I originally intended which is wild because that almost never happens with my writing. ¨̮ 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Lemme knooooow

**Author's Note:**

> As always, lemme know what you think. ¨̮


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